


Very Fluff, Much Cute

by Thorn_Rose



Series: HashiMada Collections <3 [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Founder Era, Hashirama and Kurama are protective, Hashirama's in love, Hashirama's insatiable, Kurama and Madara are BFF's, Kurama helps, LET MADARA HAVE A KID, Madara and Hashirama are competitive AF, Madara learns to love and be loved, Madara really doesn't mind, Madara suffers because hes pretty, Madaras mouthy in bed, Mito is way too interested in other peoples lives, Own Characters - Freeform, doors are madara's enemy, madara's a cute fox
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:33:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 77,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28207620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thorn_Rose/pseuds/Thorn_Rose
Summary: In which the Senju’s are just a little more nice, Hashirama is a little more desperate and less willing to kill (and a bit more in love), and Madara’s on the end of a backfiring seal. (AKA, Madara turns into a fox and is MAD) (Also, he and Kurama are BFF’s)~*~*~Characters are a little OCEdit: wow, this went off the rails. Madara hides his softness behind a prickly exterior. Hashirama adores him (and will kill anyone who dares touch him)
Relationships: Senju Hashirama/Uchiha Madara, Senju Tobirama/Uzumaki Mito
Series: HashiMada Collections <3 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2083389
Comments: 58
Kudos: 105





	1. Breaking the Contract

~*~*~*~~

Fire and ash carried on the wind, bringing with it the acrid smell of smoke and burnt vegetation. The ground was ravaged and smouldering, the pitiful remains of the land left behind from the fight raging between Hashirama Senju and Madara Uchiha. Even here, still a few miles away from them, he could feel the heat of Madara’s flaming katon, and hear the enraged roar of the Nine-Tailed beast that Madara had summoned. 

Warily, Tobirama peered around the trunk of the huge, ancient oak he was ducking behind. The Uchiha was perched on the beasts head, gunbai and scythe in hands, red eyes gleaming manically. Hashirama faced him a few hundred feet away, between the horns of his Mokuton dragon. 

The Nine Tails roared again, massive jaws opening and bearing its fearsome teeth. Hashirama’s wood dragon bellowed in return, surging forward to confront it. 

As they fought, Tobirama hiraishined gradually closer. One more jump, and he’d be at Hashirama’s side. He paused before reaching for the mark he had placed on his brother. Automatically, his hands drifted down to his belt, fingering the tags given to him by the charming, red haired Uzumaki, Mito. Shame that her potential marriage with Hashirama hadn’t worked out. The reason being the angry, spiky Uchiha screaming at his brother. 

He watched and waited for the right time. He had to be patient; coming in too soon would inevitably lead to failure. Just a little longer…..Aha, now! He reached for his mark, and seconds later, was perched on the wood dragons head with Hashirama. His brother drew back, startled, but Tobirama gave him no time to question his sudden arrival. 

“Here,” he said, shoving the first tag into his hand. “Use this on the 9 Tails, it should sever the contract between it and Madara. Get him close, restrain him, okay?” 

“Tobirama,” Hashirama started, grasping the tag like it was a life-line. “What are you going to-”

“Just do it!” Tobirama urged. “It won’t kill him, just keep him still for me, okay?” 

Grim determination pulled his brother's mouth into a hard line, and he nodded. Satisfied, Tobirama curled his fingers around the second seal, and hiraishined out of range again. He came unto the same spot behind the tree as before. Just as before, he peered around its trunk, seal tag ready, and he waited. 

~*~*~*~

The wood dragon wound itself tightly around the 9 Tails, and the seal Mito had created imprinted on its chest. A few quick seals, and vines rose up from all around the fox spirit, further trapping it. More rose higher, binding Madara’s hands, pulling him down to his knees on top of the 9 Tails head. 

Hashirama had only a moment to breathe in deeply, exhausted, but relieved, and then Tobirama was there. He appeared out of thin air in front of Madara, kneeling in front of him and slapping a tag against his chest. Inky black lines arched up from the tag, creeping up his neck, over his jaws and cheeks, circling around his temples, and finally curling into spirals over his eyebrows. More lines appeared over the bits of skin visible through the tears and holes in his dark clothes, winding over his arms, down his torso, and curling around his legs to his ankles. 

Madara’s red eyes grew wide, panicked, and he clawed at his chest with his bound hands. “What have you done,” his hissed, an uncommon tone of panic darkening his tone. The inky black of the seal was lightening, turning into a vibrant red. Below him, the 9 Tails roared, in pain or in fury or in both. Hashirama couldn’t tell. 

Smoke started curling up from the seal lines encompassing Madara, and similar lines began curling around the 9 Tails too. 

“Tobirama,” he started slowly. “What’s going on?” 

Tobirama glanced at him, then quickly looked away, down at Madara, who had his eyes squeezed shut in pain, and was curling over himself. 

“It’s...going to break the contract between them,” he said slowly. “He won’t be able to summon it.” 

“Is it supposed to burn him to ash?” Hashirama shot back, wincing at the smell of slowly burning skin. 

“Uchiha are creatures of fire, he’ll be fine,” Tobirama said, but he sounded uncertain. Madara groaned quietly, and the 9 Tails let out a quiet snarl. 

“Damn you, Senju,” Madara rasped, hoarse and aching and slowly. “Both of you, damn you!” 

The anger and the pain in his voice made a wave of guilt crash over Hashirama like a tsunami. “I’m sorry, Mads,” he said, crouching in front of him. “I’m so sorry. Tobirama, stop it!” 

“I can’t,” he said, leaning back. “Mito created the seal. I can’t take it off.” 

“It’s going to kill him!” 

“It won’t. It’ll just-”

Madara shrieked suddenly, and it was drowned out by the 9 Tails roar. Then, abruptly, with a great poof of smoke, he vanished. The 9 Tails shook itself, ripping free of its restraints, and the Senju’s leaped to safety. A thick vine arched up to catch them, and they crouched on it, watching the 9 Tail hiss and claw and scan the ground frantically. Then, it stilled, as though it had found what it was looking for. Its massive body shuddered, and it shrank down; until it was the size of a horse. 

It lowered its head, sniffing at a small lump of black. “What’s it doing?” Tobirama hissed, and Hashirama could only stare, transfixed. 

“Where is Madara?” he shot back, and Tobirama shrugged. 

“Gone.” He hesitated as his brother's chakra flared in evident distress. He knew what Madara meant to his brother, which is why he hadn’t permitted the seal Mito had created to be one to kill him. It was only supposed to sever the connection between Madara and the 9 Tail, sending the beast back to wherever it came from, and locking Madara’s chakra away. Whatever it had done, it wasn’t the plan. 

“We need to send it back,” Hashirama said, his voice still grieved. “We can’t allow it to roam free and wreak havoc.” He stood up, folding his hands together. At the same time, the vine carrying him and Tobirama brought them closer to the much smaller Tailed Beast. Madara’s disappearance, his apparent loss, hurt. But he couldn’t let the beast hurt anyone else. 

The beast looked up as they approached, pulling its lip back to snarl at them fiercely. But it made no move to attack, instead standing over whatever the black thing was lying on the ground. It hissed as they came closer, stepping further over the pile of black fur. 

“What is that?” Tobirama hissed quietly. 

“I don’t know,” Hashirama whispered back. The 9 Tails hissed again when he lifted his hands to summon his Mokuton. 

“Do NOT,” it said, and Hashirama’s jaw dropped in shock. It could...talk? Since WHEN?! 

“Tobirama,” he hissed. 

“I don’t know,” Tobirama snapped back, sounding just as confused as he felt. 

“Leave us,” the 9 Tails growled. Its voice was very deep, hoarse and rumbling. 

“Us?” Tobirama inquired. He never was one to let something unexpected rattle him for long. He was much too curious, intrigued by whatever it was the 9 Tails seemed set on protecting. 

The 9 Tails hissed again. “You should not have messed with what you do not understand. You were lucky it turned out as it did.” 

“That what turned out as it did?” Hashirama questioned, starting to get very confused. The 9 Tails leered at him, and at that moment, the pile of black fur moved, with a very familiar groan that made both him and Tobirama freeze. 

“Urgh...Kurama….. What?” The mound of fluff moved a little more, getting its front legs under it, and it lifted its head. Fluffy black ears, a short, elegant snout, and blazing red Sharingans stared up at them. 

Hashirama had to resist the urge to faint. 

~*~*~*~*~

Oh, his head hurt. 

Blearily, he opened his eyes, staring at the ground in front of him. The grass tickled his nose, and he moved his head a little to get the irritating green things out of his nostrils. His eyes slowly came to focus, and he saw two orange legs standing on either side of his head. He looked up slowly, and saw Kurama standing over him, fierce and angry. And small. Very small. He knew the 9 Tails could make himself smaller, but this was VERY small. 

“Urgh,” he groaned, moving a bit. His body felt weird. Too...long? “Kurama,” he started. “What….” He trailed off as his eyes sharpened some more. Right in front of him, where he thought his hands had been resting on the ground, were two black...paws?

Recollection of the pain shooting through him, originating from that strange tag Tobirama had slapped on his chest, hit him like a brick. He shot up, banging his head against Kurama’s chest. The fox stepped back a little, letting him rise unsteady to his feet. All four of them. Something heavy behind him made him stagger unsteadily, and he craned his neck to glare at 9 incredibly fluffy tails flicking from the base of his spine. 

“Kurama,” he rasped, panic swelling up. “Kurama, what-”

“Quiet, pup,” the 9 Tails rumbled. “We will fix what they did to you.” 

“They?” Madara echoed, bewildered. A choked sound had him perking his ridiculously large, fluffy ears, and he turned his head to stare at the comically shocked expressions on Tobirama and Hashirama’s faces. 

~*~*~*~*~

“Oh, Tobirama,” Hashirama moaned. “What have you done?” 

“I didn’t do anything!” Tobirama snapped. “I didn’t make the seal!” 

“Madara’s a fox!” he shrieked back at him, flailing his arms. “He wasn’t supposed to be a fox! I thought it was supposed to sever his contract with the 9 Tails!” 

“It was!” 

“Then why didn’t it?!”

“There was no contract to break, stupid humans,” Kurama rumbled. Madara had wobbled unsteadily back to the ground, and the 9 Tails was once again standing protectively over him, glaring at them. 

Below him, Madara groaned out something about stupid Senju’s and white haired demons and red haired princesses. 

“I did not sign a contract with Madara,” Kurama continued. “I came to him because I wished to.” 

“Why would you WANT to hang around him?” Tobirama demanded. 

“Mutual benefits,” Kurama said, but Hashirama had a feeling there was more to it than that. He stared down at Madara, currently an adorable fluffy, black, miniature version of the 9 Tails, lounging on the ground with his large ears flopping off to either side of his head. The much more intimidating 9 Tails continued to glare at them. 

“Okay, well. Now what?” Hashirama asked, waving his hands about. “We can’t just leave him like this! We have to take him back with us, figure out how to-”

“You will not bring Madara anywhere!” Kurama thundered, bearing his massive fangs and flicking his tails. Hashirama held up his hands placatingly, sensing that the beast was indeed protective over Madara, for whatever reason. 

“We aren’t going to hurt him,” he said soothingly. “We never intended to. Madara made some bad choices, that’s all. We just want to bring him home, and-”

“You seem to place much of the blame on him,” Kurama noticed, narrowing his eyes at them. Hashirama paused, shifting his gaze to the black fox staring at the grass. He seemed much too confused to realize that he was, in fact, a fox. Or maybe he had, but the full implications had yet to hit him. 

“Look, uh, mister 9 Tails,” he started. 

“Kurama,” the Tailed Beast corrected. 

“Uh, okay, Kurama,” Hashirama agreed. He could almost hear Tobirama rolling his eyes. “Look, Madara is my best friend,” he pleaded. “We’ve had our fights, but I never wanted to actually hurt him. I just...I want him back. I want things to go back to the way they were before.” 

“Do you understand, little human, what Madara even wanted to leave for?” Kurama rumbled, staring at him accusingly. Hashirama paused. 

“He says the village no longer aligns with what he wants,” he started slowly. “He no longer agrees with its values, its morales.” 

Kurama snorted. “That is hardly half of it,” he said disdainfully. “If you had bothered to listen to him, to actually see, you would know.” 

“Know what?” Tobirama snapped, his patience starting to fray. Kurama turned his burning eyes to him. 

“Ah, the Senju who felled Izuna Uchiha,” he mused. “Madara only ever tolerated you for Hashirama’s sake. And, elder Senju…” He paused, and his eyes narrowed further. “He left because of you, Senju.” 

Hashirama rocked back. Of all the things the fox spirit could have said, that was now what he was expecting. “Me?” he echoed. “Why me?” 

“That is not for me to say,” Kurama said. “Where is the Uzumaki who created the seal?” 

“Back at the village,” Hashirama said automatically, ignoring Tobirama’s glare. “Her and some of her clan members are here to negotiate an alliance…” 

“She will reverse the seal,” Kurama ordered. “You will bring her here.” 

“No,” Tobirama said, shaking his head. “She cannot leave the village. We will take Madara with us to the village.” 

“Madara does not leave me,” Kurama thundered. He looked down at Madara, who was staring ahead of himself listlessly. Either he was about to pass out, or was so confused and dazed he had absolutely nothing to contribute to the conversation. “I will go with you,” Kurama decided. 

“No, wait,” Tobirama started to protest, but Kurama flicked his tails and glared at them. Hashirama glanced back at Tobirama, giving him a meaningful look. Tobirama glared back for a few seconds, but finally conceded. Kurama snorted smugly, and closed his eyes. 

With a flicker of chakra, he grew bigger, until he was nearly twice the size he had been before, but not nearly as large as he had been at first. He leaned down, opening his jaws. For a moment, Hashirama panicked, thinking the fox was going to bite Madara’s head off. But the fox merely fitted his jaws around the scruff of the black fox’s neck, lifting him up like a cat would with her kitten. 

He gave them an expectant look, and Hashirama turned to his brother. “Tobi?” he said quietly. Tobirama gave him an incredulous look. For a long moment, they stared at each other. It was only when Kurama growled impatiently that Tobirama reached out, putting one hand on Hashirama’s shoulder and one hand on the foxes, and he hiraishined them back to Konoha. 

~*~*~*~

Kurama didn’t leave Madara’s side once, glaring at Mito as the Uzumaki ran careful hands over Madara’s black fur. The Uchiha hadn’t moved or said a thing since before reaching Konoha. In fact, he looked like he was asleep; his eyes were closed, and he was breathing deeply. It was so uncharacteristic of him that Hashirama felt far more worried than before. 

“The seal shouldn’t have done anything if there was no contract to break,” Mito said, distracting him from his thoughts. She was sitting back on her heels, frowning at the black, 9 tailed fox. The tails were flicking and swishing slowly, responding to whatever Madara was dreaming. 

“Can you fix it?” Tobirama asked, giving the unmoving fox a suspicious stare. Mito hesitated, and slowly shook her head. 

“No...This seal is a one time use. I don’t understand how it went wrong. But I think, it should wear off by itself.” 

“Is that the best you can do?” Kurama demanded, baring his teeth. “The pup cannot stay like this for long.” 

“He will be fine,” Mito soothed, looking unfazed by the angry tailed beast. Hashirama felt his respect renewed for her. It took great courage to speak so fearlessly to a creature like Kurama.

“Then why does he not move, not speak?” Kurama demanded. He leaned down, nudging his snout against Madara’s head. 

“He may simply be in shock,” Mito said. “It’s not every day you pass out and wake up as a fox.” 

“His chakra is still present,” Tobirama noted. “A little subdued. Almost like it’s tired.” 

“So, what do we do?” Hashirama asked, and Mito sighed, standing. 

“We wait until he wakes up. And hopefully he’ll change back soon.” 

~*~*~*~*~

It was a few hours later that Madara woke up. He was pleasantly warm, surrounded by soft warmth. He purred softly, burrowing further into it, and another, deeper purr answered him. 

Uh, what? 

He lifted his head, finding he had to work a bit to do so. He blinked several times, certain his eyes were playing tricks on him. But, nope. Kurama was curled around him like a snake, long limbs and tails wrapped around him protectively. He turned his head, and found Kurama staring down at him, head resting on his front paws. 

“Hello, pup,” Kurama greeted. Madara blinked at him. 

“Kurama,” he said, surprised at how sore his throat was. “Am I dreaming?” 

“You know the answer to that.” 

“I’m not dreaming.” 

Kurama grinned lazily. “Welcome to the four-legged world, whelp.” 

“Stop calling me that,” Madara grumbled, sitting up onto his haunches. Wow, that was weird. He looked down at his paws, staring at the black tipped claws poking out from the outrageously fluffy fur. 

“Why am I so….” He paused, looking for another word to describe himself. 

“Very fluffy,” Kurama said, taking no pity. Madara growled, curling his tails around his back legs. It was oddly comforting. 

“Where are we?” 

“Hashirama Senju’s house.” 

Madara jerked up, and stared at him in horror. “No,” he gasped. Kurama still had no pity. 

“Yes.” The fox glanced around, and then frowned at him. “The effects of the seal will apparently wear off itself,” he said. “And until then…” 

“I’m stuck as a fox,” Madara whined despairingly. 

“It’s not so bad. You make a good fox.” 

“Thanks,” Madara said sarcastically. He stood slowly, unused to walking on all fours. He wobbled unsteadily, well aware of Kurama’s amused gaze. He ignored him as much as he could, and walked unsteadily towards the door. He recognized this room, he realized. It was the one Hashirama always let him stay in. The thought made him feel oddly...homesick. 

He paused in front of the door, and realized he had another dilemma. Door handles. He sat down, and frowned at the door. Kurama laughed, and he glared at him. 

“Having some trouble?” Kurama asked. 

“How do we….doors?” 

“Don’t worry your fluffy little head,” Kurama said. “We are staying put until whatever happened to you wears off.” 

“Who knows how long that could be?” Madara demanded, and Kurama huffed. 

“It’ll be fine, pup. Now, sit.” 

“No.” He resumed glaring at the door, flicking his tails irritably. If it wasn’t a rounded handle, he could just try to bite it. But that wouldn’t work here. “Kurama,” he whined. “I want out.” 

“And where would you go, mhm?” Kurama asked smugly. “Back home? To your clans part of the village? Or to the forest? Things are different now, Madara. You’ll just have to suck it up.” 

Madara puffed up furiously, glaring at him. “Don’t tell me-”

“What to do?” The door opened, and Hashirama walked in, a gentle smile on his face. Madara tried to ignore the lurch that his treacherous heart made at the sight of him. ‘I hate him’, he reminded himself. ‘He turned my own clan against me. He betrayed me.’ 

The old tune he always said to himself seemed like a lie even to himself. “Go away,” he grumbled, turning back to Kurama. 

“Wait, Madara,” Hashirama said, reaching out. His broad hand sank into the thick fur along Madara’s spine, and he froze, surprised at how pleasant it felt. He stayed still for some reason, and Hashirama absentmindedly started stroking up and down his back. “I thought that maybe you would like to stretch your legs. All...four of them.” 

Madara turned to stare at him. “What is wrong with you?” he demanded. “Why aren’t you angry with me? Why don’t you yell? Scream and accuse and point out all of my wrongs?” 

“Oh, Madara,” Hashirama said, a heartbroken expression on his face. “It was never you who made the mistakes. I did. I shouldn’t have pushed you so much. If I had just taken the time to realize that you were hurting, we could have avoided all of this. I’m so sorry, Madara. I swear I’ll do better from now on. I’ll be there for you, from now on, I promise.” 

Madara stared at him wordlessly, and Hashirama stared back. “Let’s go for a walk,” he mumbled, turning and walking out the open door. He didn’t turn in time to miss Hashirama’s delighted smile, and he gnawed at his lip with his sharp teeth. He made his way down the familiar halls and stairs, and stopped before Hashirama’s doors. He walked much faster than before, and Hashirama was lagging. 

Impatiently, Madara waited for him. “Trouble with doors?” Hashirama teased as he approached, and Madara glared at him as the Senju stepped past him to push the doors open for him. 

“Stupid Senju,” Madara grumbled, eagerly stepping outside. The warmth of the suns rays fell down on him, and he purred contently. Out on the steps, he paused to stretch luxuriously, much like a cat. 

“You know, being a fox suits you,” Hashirama said, and Madara snorted. “It does!” Hashirama insisted. He reached out, resting a hand on Madara’s back as they walked, and surprising himself, Madara let him. His back just barely came up to the Senju’s waist. 

Madara didn’t pay much attention to where they were going, and thus it was a surprise when Hashirama paused in front of a familiar house. His house. In the Uchiha district. He narrowed his black eyes at him, and Hashirama sighed. 

“I thought it would be nice for you to see something familiar,” he said helplessly, and Madara sighed again. Before he could reply, a new voice called out. 

“Hokage-sama!” It was a woman’s voice, and they both turned to see a young Uchiha approach. She was pretty, with the Uchiha black hair and eyes and fair skin. She looked down at Madara, and beamed. “Who is this?” she cooed. Unexpectedly, she dropped to her knees before him, reaching out and firmly, but gently rubbing his head, playing with his ears. “He’s so fluffy! When did you get a pet fox, Hokage-sama? What is his name?” 

Disbelieving, Madara looked at Hashirama, who gawked for just a moment. “Ah, this is….Dara,” he said to the Uchiha woman. “I just got him a little while ago. Isn’t he cute?” 

“Adorable,” the woman agreed, wrapping her arms around his neck and snuggling into his thick fur. Madara felt the strange urge to bite her, but he held his impulse, and let her coddle him. “Sikae, Idari, come and see Dara!” 

Two small Uchiha children warily stepped out of the neighbouring house's porch. “Come, he’s friendly,” the woman encouraged. The girl, Sikae, was the first to reach out, running her tiny hand over his snout and between his eyes. She couldn’t have been over 4 years old. Madara stared down at her, watching the awe light up her dark eyes. And he couldn’t help but soften. 

He lowered his head, allowing her better access to his ears. Beside her, the boy who was probably the same age, reached out to mimic her, cautiously stroking his furry side. Oh, if Izuna could see him now, he’d never let him live it down. 

Reluctantly, he lowered himself down to his belly, letting the three of them coo over him. Sikae grabbed two big fistfuls of his fur and pulled, hard. It took him a minute to realize that she was steadily climbing onto his back. He started to growl, but a large hand on his forehead stopped it. Hashirama beamed at him, so bright and warm and adoring. And Madara couldn’t help but relax, letting the little girl clamber all over him. 

Drawn by the commotion, more Uchiha started to come over, and the children proceeded to climb all over him, fascinated, while the adults questioned Hashirama about his new ‘pet’. Skillfully, Hashirama evaded the questions as to where he found such a creature, and much less tamed it. 

It was a few hours past sundown when they finally untangled Madara from the horde of enamoured Uchiha children and made their way back to the Senju’s home. Shinobi and civilians all paused to stare at the two of them, and some of the braver even dared to come over and pat Madara’s head. How badly he wanted to growl and snap at them, but Hashirama’s heavy hand on his back stayed him. 

It was a relief when Hashirama opened the doors to his room, and he bounded towards Kurama, surprised at the relief he felt when he saw him. “Pup,” Kurama greeted, shifting onto his side. Without a thought, Madara curled himself into the larger fox, snuggling into his warm fur. What a day. It had been strangely exhausting. “Welcome back.” 

Madara just grunted, curling up and closing his eyes. “Goodnight, Madara,” Hashirama called from the door. Madara cracked open one eye, watching him. Hashirama had that annoyingly dopey smile on his face, all calm and quiet and gentle. Almost adoring, but Madara wasn’t foolish enough to imagine that. “Thank you for today. I enjoyed it.” 

“And how far behind are you on your paperwork now?” he shot back, lifting his head and opening his other eye. Hashirama didn’t fail or panic like he thought he would. Instead, his smile softened even more. 

“You’re more important than any of that.” With that, he closed the door gently, leaving Madara staring after him in disbelief. Kurama rumbled, amused and annoyed. 

“Oh, pup,” he sighed, lifting his head to plonk it over Madara’s shoulder, encouraging him to lay down. “You have so very much to learn.”


	2. Mads is good with kids

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Still a fox. Still cranky. Maybe a little nicer. Kurama is amused.

~*~*~*~

The next morning, Madara was oddly relieved to wake up still a fox. It was strange, but he almost preferred this form. He didn’t have to deal with the angry, dark, suspicious stares, filled with hate and distrust. 

He lifted his head, and yawned hugely. Beside him, Kurama rumbled softly, nudging his head against his neck. He grumbled, pushing back into him without thinking, pleased at his warmth. “Whaddya want?” he grumbled. 

“You’re still a fox,” Kurama said. 

“Clearly.” He sat up, stretching his tails. “I think it might be helpful to brainstorm,” he decided. “How on earth did I become a fox? And why one with 9 tails?” 

“I’ve been thinking about that,” Kurama said. “And while you were out meandering with Senju yesterday, Uzumaki came to see me.” 

“Mito?” Madara asked, surprised. Kurama hummed in assent. 

“We discussed why the seal might have backfired. I assume it's because the seal was meant to break a contract. Since there was no contract to break, it reacted negatively, and since we were both hit with the seal, it connected, rather than separated as it was supposed to. I think my chakra may have leaked a little into yours. You took on some of my nature as a result. Most noticeably, my form. Only black, and very fluffy. With very big ears.” 

“Shut up, Kurama,” he said crankily. He untangled himself from the pile of fur and tails and limbs, and made his way to the door. He was feeling kinda hungry. What did foxes eat? Specifically one with 9 tails? He sat down, staring at the door angrily. “Hurry UP, Hashirama,” he said irritably. 

“The great Madara Uchiha, held back by a door,” Kurama teased, and Madara growled, ears flattening. If he had any way to control his chakra, he would either burn down the door, or burn Kurama. Not that it would work well. 

He resigned himself to waiting. Fortunately, Hashirama was still an early riser. It was only minutes later that a knock sounded, and the door swung open. “Good morning, Madara!” Hashirama greeted brighty. “Hello, Kurama.” 

“Senju,” Kurama rumbled, inclining his head. “Run along, pup. Stretch your legs.” 

“What are you, my father?” Madara shot back. He raised his head haughtily, and he stalked past Hashirama. Both he and Kurama laughed at his behaviour, and he ignored them, heading downstairs and to the doors. 

“I need to go to the office today,” Hashirama said after he let them both out. “I hope you don’t mind?” 

“Why would you go anywhere without your new pet?” he growled, and Hashirama winced. 

“I’m sorry, Mads. But it’s a good ruse. People will be interested in my….exotic new pet for a while, and then interest will die off again soon. Soon, you’ll be a very common sight around the village.” 

“I don’t want to be,” he snapped, clicking his teeth together irritably. “I want to go back to normal so I can-”

“Madara,” Hashirama interrupted. “I know. It’ll all work out.” 

“That’s what you think.” He continued walking, swishing his tails. As they went, more people than usual stopped to speak to Hashirama, most of them cooing at Madara. Many women and children squealed at how cute he was, while many of the shinobi commented on how useful a fox could be as a ninja companion. 

An idea started formulating in Madara’s mind, but he waited to speak up until they were safely sequestered in Hashirama’s office. “I want to go out,” he said, as soon as the door was closed. 

“We just got here,” Hashirama said, and Madara’s ears twitched in annoyance. 

“No, idiot. I want to go out on missions.” 

“You don’t have any access to your chakra, and you can’t use weapons, Madara. You can’t-”

“If people can have dogs as a ninja companion on missions, then I can damn well go on missions as a fox!” he snapped. “You can’t keep me cooped up here.” Hashirama sat down behind his desk, interlacing his fingers and resting his chin on them. 

“Madara,” he started, in that tone of voice that Madara hated. It was so patient and gentle and calm, and it always came when Hashirama was scolding him. “You left the village, remember? And now you want me to send you out to work for it? Do you understand how ironic that is, and how….”

“Are you saying that I would leave again, Hashirama?” Madara asked lowly. He sat down on his haunches, letting his tails fan out wide behind him. “I am not leaving until this stupid fox body is gone. I will only leave, and come back to kill you, when I am back to normal.” 

“You don’t know how long that could be,” Hashirama said. “You could be hurt, or killed, or-”

“I am not helpless!” Madara snarled, standing up and pulling his lips back to snarl. Hashirama didn’t look intimidated, but he did lean back a little. “I am bored, Hashirama. You can’t just…” He trailed off, searching for his words. Yes, it might seem strange that he wanted to go out and about. But Hashirama had driven him off in the first place. Maybe, just maybe, he could make amends this way. 

“Hashirama, please,” he said, sitting back down and curling his tails in. “Let me do this.” 

A brief stare down ensued. It was broken by Tobirama sauntering into the room. “Oh good, Madara, you’re here,” he said, red eyes gleaming. Madara didn’t like the look of that at all. “I want you to come with me.” 

“Why?” Both he and Hashirama asked it at the same time. Tobirama tilted his head. 

“I want to run some….tests. Maybe I can figure out how-”

“NO!” Madara snapped, bristling angrily. “I am NOT one of your little experiments, Senju! How dare you-”

“Enough!” Hashirama called. “Madara, be nice. No snapping or baring your teeth please. And Tobirama, no experiments on Madara, okay?” 

Tobirama sighed, disappointed, and Madara purposefully curled his lips back over his teeth. It took a lot of effort. “Okay, Madara. You can go out on a mission or two. But not alone.” 

“Why not?” he demanded. 

“I don’t want you getting hurt.” Madara snorted. ‘He doesn’t trust me.’

Who could blame him? 

~*~*~*~*~

Later that day, just as Madara was happily finishing chewing on some sushi Hashirama got for him, he was sent out. With Tobirama, of course. Kurama came to see him off, but declined to come along. 

“Be careful, pup,” the 9 Tails said, nuzzling his face, neck, and shoulders. 

“Go away, Kurama,” he whined, wiggling away from his affections. Kurama grunted, and proceeded to lick a long, slobbery stripe from his forehead to his nape. Madara growled, and turned to bite at him. He missed, of course. Kurama lifted his head out of range. 

“Let’s go,” Tobirama snapped. “We don’t have all day.” 

He turned to storm away, and Madara followed him, with a strange sense of anticipation. 

~*~*~*~

Fighting as a fox was exhilarating. And was he ever learning a lot about himself. His tails were incredibly strong. A single swing of one could break a man's neck. And his jaws were strong enough to break any ninja tool he came across. 

The taste of blood, however… was not pleasant. He licked absently at his chops, wincing when he licked in some more blood. Gross. Metallic.

But did it ever feel good. The adrenaline pumping through his body, the satisfaction of sinking his teeth into the vulnerable flesh of a man's throat. Ripping it out with a savage snarl and a spray of blood. He was almost disappointed it was already over. The area around them was scattered with bodies, which were torn apart, broken, or wet or stabbed. Grudgingly, he and Tobirama made a good team. 

He flicked his tails, looking over at Tobirama. The white haired demon was already looking back at him, looking intrigued. “Just how strong are those tails of yours?” he asked, looking like he would love to start examining one. 

“Strong enough to break your stupid neck,” he shot back. He flicked his tails again, turning and heading back toward Konoha. Crankily, Tobirama followed. 

~*~*~*`

“You’re filthy,” Kurama said as soon as he got back. The 9 Tails, and Hashirama, were waiting a few miles outside of Konoha, next to a slow, but deep river. 

“Unavoidable,” Madara said. Kurama snorted. “What are you even doing here?” 

“Kurama wanted to get out for a bit,” Hashirama said, looking quite calm and comfortable next to the horse sized creature. “And since I can’t have him walking around Konoha without causing a panic, we came here to wait for you to return. How was it?” 

“Successful, of course,” Tobirama said with a snort. “Madara’s new form is very...effective.” Madara rumbled smugly. 

“Immensely. It’s strong.” 

“Not as strong as mine is, pup,” Kurama said, standing up and walking closer. “You’re disgusting. Bath time.” 

“Wait, Kurama-” Madara crouched, flattening himself to the ground, but Kurama was not to be stopped. He shoved at Madara persistently, and dumped him into the water with an undignified shriek. The moment he fell in, Madara was up and scrambling at the bank, growling and slipping, fur sodden and heavy with water. 

Unforgivingly, Kurama pushed him back in before he could make much headway. “KURAMA!” he bellowed, rising above the water's surface, 9 tails flicking and swaying angrily, making the water splash violently and nearly dousing the three standing on the bank. 

Hashirama laughed, loud and hearty, and Madara stopped his thrashing and splashing to stare. He caught himself right away, and dragged himself out of the river. Once out on dry land, he planted his paws, and shook himself violently, spraying water everywhere. 

Immediately, Hashirama started complaining, and Tobirama grumbled something about ‘stupid, nasty, mutts spraying dirty water everywhere, disgusting’. He felt smugly satisfied at his evident discomfort. 

“Let’s go home,” Hashirama said, wiping the water from his forehead. The setting sun caught the stray drops rolling down his face, and he stared before he could stop himself. Kurama shook out his tails, pausing beside him. 

“Oh, pup,” he said, drawing him from his staring. He looked up, finding Kurama staring down at him, his expression a mix of amusement and pity. “Come along.” 

Hashirama wiped the rest of the water from his face, and reached out to tussle Madara’s ears. “Let’s get something to eat.”

~*~*~*~*~

That night, Hashirama left the door to his room open. Both of their rooms. After listening to Kurama snore softly for over 2 hours, Madara uncurled himself from the Tailed Beasts warm, protective embrace. Silently, he slunk out of the room, black as the shadows and just as quiet. His padded feet made no sound, but still he hesitated in the middle of the hall, just outside of Hashirama’s room. 

Oh, sages. This was stupid. He should just go back, and curl under Kurama’s tails, and sleep. But here he was, loitering outside of Hashirama’s room, tails flicking anxiously. 

Aw, hell. He was a bloody fox. He could always blame that. Silently, he slipped through the open crack of Hashirama’s door, nudging it open just a little more so he could slip through. Hashirama’s room was just as he remembered. Overdecorated and busy. And wedged in the corner of the room was his oversized bed. Upon which the Senju lay, huddled beneath a mound of blankets. 

Madara’s tails flicked anxiously, and one of them knocked over a vase. It fell with a loud bang. ‘Shitttttttt’. 

Hashirama woke up with a start, jerking upright. He stared at Madara with wide eyes. Madara stared back, panicking so hard on the inside that he couldn’t even make sense of the situation. 

“Hi, Madara,” Hashirama said softly, with a tiny smile. Madara whined softly, ears flicking. 

“I broke your vase,” he said dumbly. Hashirama glanced down at the vase, and shrugged. 

“It was old.” 

“Oh.” 

They continued to stare at each other: Hashirama was motionless. Madara shifted his weight, swished his tails, flicked his ears. 

“Come here,” Hashirama invited, scooting over on the bed. 

“What.” Madara tilted his head, certain he heard him wrong. 

“Come here,” Hashirama insisted, patting the bed beside him. “The floor can’t be that comfy.” 

“It’s not.” 

“So come here.” 

Before he could think better of it, Madara slowly paced closer. He hesitated once more, and hopped up onto the bed. He curled up into a ball, wrapping his tails around him, and rested his head on his paws. He and Hashirama stared at each other. 

Hashirama smiled, reaching out and gently rubbing Madara’s head. His fingers curled around each of his ears, foundly. “You know,” he started slowly, “you’re quite beautiful like this. All dark and regal and so, so fluffy.” 

Madara growled, embarrassed, and hid his face in his tails. “Shut up,” he grumbled. “I’m not fluffy.” 

:”Yes, you are,” Hashirama laughed. “So very, very fluffy. Adorably cuddly. You have any idea how many people asked me where you were today? Do you know how many children were disappointed that they couldn’t snuggle with ‘Dara-chan’?” 

“Hashiramaaaaaa,” he hissed, lifting one tail to glare at him. “Shut. Up.” 

“Hey, you came to my room,” Hashirama pointed out. “Don’t like it, leave.” Even as he spoke, Hashirama moved slowly, until the two were practically smushed against each other. One of his arms wrapped around him snugly, leaving him no room to wiggle free. Madara made a noise of quiet protest, but didn’t move. 

Hashirama was warm, and safe, and comfortable. And he didn’t really want to move. So, he buried his nose into Hashirama’s hair, wrapped his tails around them both, and let himself fall asleep. 

~*~*~*~

He slipped out of Hashirama’s room before the man could wake up, and slunk into his and Kurama’s. The 9 Tails was, of course, already awake. Probably had been for a long while. “Hello pup,” he greeted, and Madara snorted, flicking his tails at him. 

“Good morning, Kurama,” he said, hopping up into the nest of blankets and pillows and tails and fur. He made himself comfortable against Kurama’s side, and the chakra creature curled around him with a happy rumble. 

“You smell pleasant. A little...forestry.” If he was human, he would have blushed. 

“I was outside,” he said sheepishly. Kurama snorted. 

“Indeed. And you opened the main doors with what hands?” 

Madara had no dignified response to that. He huffed, lifting his nose disdainfully. Kurama chuckled, resting his head down on Madara’s shoulders. “Little pup,” he said fondly. “Am I ever glad I met you. It’s turned out to be very amusing.” 

Madara ignored him, closing his eyes. Kurama laughed again, and tightened his curl around him. 

~*~*~*~

That day, after Hashirama had come to collect him, they spent the entire day at his office. Madara paced the room, and alternated between sitting at the window, sitting in front of his desk, and standing beside him to stare at his work over his elbow. Whenever Hashirama started to get distracted, he’d give him an enthusiastic nip to refocus him. 

Any visitors Hashirama had paused to coo at him, pet his head and fiddle with his ears. At first it irritated Madara. Then he started to tolerate it. All too soon, he started to enjoy it. But ONLY when it was from children. 

The amount of visitors Hashirama had, especially children, skyrocketed. After only a very brief “Hello, Hokage-sama!”, they’d turn to fawn over Madara, who laid there and took it, telling himself he hated it, but he couldn’t be more content. 

Hashirama complained about it a lot now. “Every time I talk to someone,” he whined, “they barely say hello before they’re cooing over you.” 

“Now you know how it feels,” Madara said smugly, and Hashirama winced, his complaints ceasing. 

“Madara, I’m sorry,” he said seriously. “I really didn’t know how you were feeling all this time. I should have known better.” 

Madara was quiet, watching his paws as he walked. “Maybe I should have...tried harder,” he said reluctantly. He stopped walking, and Hashirama did too, his hand not moving from its place on Madara’s shoulder. “I isolated myself,” he admitted. “From you, from my clan. The village…” 

Hashirama hummed. “Maybe. But still. I am sorry. Can we start over? Work on things anew? We can change things, make things better.” 

“I think it’s too late for late, Hashi,” Madara said quietly. But Hashirama shook his head. 

“You and I brought our clans together, we created peace, when everyone thought it was impossible. We can make things better now, Madara. We can change things. Please, Mads….Can’t we at least try?”

Madara stared at him, and looked down again. “Okay,” he said finally. “Okay.” 

~*~*~*~*~

He spent a few hours with Kurama. Then he snuck out again, through the doors Hashirama kindly left open. This time he didn’t hesitate nearly as much. The Hokage was half asleep when he hopped up on his bed, but he stirred when Madara started to arrange himself comfortably. 

“Mads…” he mumbled, lazily slinging an arm over Madara’s side. He nuzzled into Hashirama’s hair, curled himself comfortably into his embrace, and let himself be lulled into seep. 

~*~*~*~

He slipped out again before Hashrama woke up. This time, he took the open window. Jumping down from the roof was a lot more fun as a fox. He didn’t bother to hide his presence; everyone in the village was far too used to seeing him by now. 

“Hello, Dara-chan!” a Yamanaka woman greeted, patting his head. He let her with a quiet rumble. “No Hokage today, mhm? I suppose you’re getting used to your new home, aren’t you?” She tickled his ears, and he purred quietly. “Well, be good foxy.” With one more tussle, she went about her way. 

Madara watched her go, and continued on his way. He was stopped a lot, mostly by children who insisted having a 5 minute cuddle session before he could move on. It took much longer than he planned to reach the Uchiha district. 

When he had, he perched on the porch in front of his house, and watched his clan rouse for the day. He didn’t bother hiding, again. Everyone knew him, and everyone stopped to say hello and give him a pat. 

He was sitting there, surrounded by a gaggle of children, when Hashirama found him, sweaty and looking frantic. He looked comically surprised to see him there, completely at ease, with 4 children on his back, two under his tails, and one between his front paws. 

“Ah, Ma...err, Dara! There you are!” He reached down, tussling his ears, and Madara huffed. “I’ve been looking for you. It’s time to go to the office.” Madara growled, and plonked his head down on the ground. The child between his paws immediately seized one of his ears. “Uh, Dara? Come along now, it’s time to go.” 

“But Hokage-samaaaaaa,” one of the children whined. “Can’t he stay? Pleaaaseeee? Can he play with us? I promise we’ll feed him!” Madara tilted his head at him, and Hashirama sighed. He always caved so quickly when it came to children. 

“Okay, fine. I’ll come back for him later. Take good care of him!” 

“We will!” three of the children shrieked together. One of them wrapped her arms around Madara’s neck, and without a second thought, he licked her cheek, prompting her to shriek with laughter. Hashirama smiled, warmed at the sight of seeing Madara connecting with the children of his clan. Even if he was a fox. 

“Alright. Be good….Dara.” Madara nipped his hand, and Hashirama smiled. With one last pat, he strolled out of the Uchiha district, making his way to the Hokage tower. Madara couldn’t watch him go. The instant he was gone, the children were nudging him to his feet, and they were off towards the center of the district. 

The children began to play a game of tag, and naturally, he was it. And of course, he played along, chasing them around, gently nudging them with his head, or swatting at them with his paws. Occasionally, an adult would stop by and watch, as if worried that Madara would accidently hurt one of them. Their worries were quickly soothed, and they were soon on their way, reassured. 

Madara was escorting the last child home when Hashirama returned. He was sitting in front of their steps, tails waving, as the child bounded up the steps. “Bye bye Dara-chan!” he called, swinging open the door. Madara yipped softly in farewell. 

When he turned around, Hashirama was gazing at him with a fond expression. “Hello, Dara,” he said. Madara huffed, standing up and pacing towards him. 

“Hi Hashi,” he mumbled, as Hashirama fell in pace with him and placed his hand in its usual spot on his back. “How was the office?” 

“Boring, as usual,” Hashirama complained. “Much more interesting with you there.” 

“Of course,” Madara snorted. “I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to you, Senju.” 

“Yeah,” Hashirama agreed. “You are.” Madara turned away, embarrassed. He was positive that his face would be bright red if he were currently human. 

“Idiot,” he mumbled, and Hashirama laughed. 

~*~*~

Before they got home, Hashirama bought them dinner to take with them. The kindly old lady who ran the ramen shop gave Madara a few strips of cooked meat, and Madara thanked her with a messy lick on her cheek which made her giggle. Distantly, he wondered since when he had started licking people. It seemed very animalistic, yet it was so oddly normal. 

They ate in Hashirama’s room, Madara with his back to the Senju. He didn’t like eating like an animal, especially not in front of him. It was embarrassing. Despite Hashirama’s claims that he didn’t mind, and that it was completely normal. 

That night, Madara didn’t go to curl up with Kurama like he usually did. He made himself comfortable on Hashirama’s bed, with the Senju wrapping around him from behind. It was the longest, and deepest, sleep he had for a long time. 

~*~*~*~

For reasons even he didn’t know, Madara was still there when Hashirama woke up. The Senju looked pleasantly surprised when he woke up to find Madara half draped over his lap, head resting on his thighs, tails hanging off the edge of the bed, and gazing out the window. “Hi Mads,” he rasped. Madara lifted his head, craning his neck to look down at him. His black, black eyes met his, and Hashirama stared. “You have bed hair.” 

Madara huffed, and shook his head rapidly a few times. His thick, fluffy black fur was sticking up every which way, and Hashirama started stroking it to soothe it down. Madara purred softly, closing his eyes, and Hashirama let himself appreciate the peace. It had been so long since Madara let him get so close. Sure, he was a fox now. But he was still Madara. Still cranky and volatile. He was just fluffy now. Or, fluffier. 

Madara moved all too soon, removing his pleasant warmth from Hashirama’s lap. “Get up,” he said, hopping down from the bed. “It’s time you went to work, Hokage-sama.” 

“Sarcasm doesn’t suit you anymore,” Hashirama whined, throwing an arm over his eyes. “You’re too cute for that.” 

“Hashirama,” Madara said, ignoring his comment. He was sitting on the other side of the room, tails waving and pawing impatiently at the wood floor. “The doors.” 

Hashirama sat up, and brought a hand to his mouth to stifle his laugh. Madara was sitting in front of the doors, waiting for them to open up. “You’re so cute when you're helpless,” he sniggered, rolling out of bed and heading over. He made sure to pet him before opening the door. With a huff, Madara sauntered out of the room, most likely to go see Kurama. 

Hashirama watched until he disappeared around the corner, and set about getting ready for the day. On his sleeping yukata were a few long, stray hairs. Madara’s. He brushed them off absentmindedly. 

He thought back to Madara’s dark eyes, and how they had briefly been red when he first changed to his new fox form. And while Hashirama was enjoying how affectionate he could be with him now, he also….missed him. He wanted to be able to run his hands over Madara’s pale face, his high cheekbones, thin eyebrows. He wanted to curl his fingers into his untamable black hair, draw it away from his face. Maybe tug on it and tilt his head back to make him stare up at him. He always loved the height difference between them. 

If only he had noticed how Madara had been acting, feeling, before he left the village. The dismay, and the hurt, he had felt when Madara returned, intending to destroy everything they worked so hard to build…… He had never felt so lost. He wanted Madara back, badly. 

He loved the little fox his friend had become. But he wanted the Uchiha back. If only so he could hold him closer.


	3. Don't touch Kurama's pup

~*~*~

Kurama draped his head over Madara’s shoulders, and the black fox yawned hugely. “You know,” he said sleepily, “I actually kinda like being a fox.” 

“Oh?” Kurama lazily flicked his tails, moving his head to clamp down gently on one of Madara’s ears. 

Madara nodded absently. “It’s warm. All this fluff I guess.” 

“It’s cute.” 

“I hate you. And everyone in this building.” 

“No you don’t.”

Madara grunted, wiggling free from Kurama and plodding toward the doors. Hashirama had been kind enough to have a short sting with a weight on its end on all the door handles, so all Madara had to do was bite down and tug and he was free to go where he wanted. His current destination? Hashirama’s room. It was almost an hour past his starting time, and Madara wanted to bite him. 

He let himself in, hopping on the end of the bed. Hashirama didn’t snore, snoring softly and drooling on his pillow. Gross. He flicked his tails, drew himself up, and pounced on him. His front paws drove into Hashirama’s belly, and the man surged up with a squawk. 

Satisfied, Madara sat back, tails flopping, and waited until Hashirama could breathe again. “Mads,” he wheezed, one hand pressing against his stomach. “Why?” 

“You’re late,” Madara said, leaning forward to bop his nose. “You were supposed to be in an hour ago. Tobirama will be mad. Take your pick, me or him?” Hashirama’s eyes widened, and he threw off his blankets. 

“You, definitely you,” he said, yanking off his sleep shirt and stumbling to the closet. Madara’s eyes followed the defined muscles of his back, and then he looked away. ‘Stupid, stupid,’ he thought fiercely to himself. 

Hashirama finished dressing in record time, and together they hurried to the tower. Madara only stopped to let a few people pat his hand; mostly children, and mostly from his own clan. He couldn’t help it. 

He made it to the tower after Hashirama, wincing when he saw the amount of paperwork stacked on the desk. Hashirama groaned in despair. “I’ll never get through all of this,” he groaned. 

“You certainly won’t by complaining about it and staring at it,” Madara said dryly, curling up on the fur rug Hashirama had brought in two weeks ago. 

“Why can’t you do some?” Hashirama whined. “You’re a founder of the village too!” 

“In case you missed it,” Madara lifted one paw. “I can’t exactly write.” 

“But you can read, can’t you? Or do foxes' eyes not work the same?” 

“Of course I can read you imbecile!” Madara snapped, and Hashirama brightened instantly. 

“Perfect!” He scooped up half of his papers, standing up and depositing them on the floor in front of him. “Here’s an idea, then. You read these over. Everything good and needing to be signed can go in one pile, and anything that needs revision can do in another!” 

“Don’t dump your workload on me,” Madara huffed. But he sat up, curling his tails around himself, and tilted his head at the first paper on the stack. Oh, the genin team lists. This should be fun. 

~*~*~*~

They had been going at it for well over two hours when Tobirama sauntered into the room. He arched a pale eyebrow at Madara, halfway through his pile, head cocked as he read another report. “You know,” he said dryly, “if anyone else but me or Mito had come in, they’d be very confused.” 

“If Madara’s gonna hang around my house he needs to pull his weight,” Hashirama said, setting down his quill. 

“Oh, and Kurama can just live there without any worries?” Madara demanded, looking up and perking his ears. 

“You don’t exactly ask a Tailed Beast to do paperwork, Mads,” Hashirama said, and Madara snorted. 

“Stop calling me that, Senju.” 

“As adorably domestic as you are,” Tobirama interjected, “I’m afraid I need to borrow Madara. We’re tracking a squad of rouge shinobi east of Konoha, but we’ve lost the trail. The Inuzuka are stretched thin. I thought another nose could be helpful.” 

Madara growled. “I am not a tracking hound, Senju,” he snapped. But he stood, and stretched. It had been a while since he had been out. He was eager for a fight. Being a fox had not had any effect on his love for battle. 

“Be careful,” Hashirama said, giving Madara a look. 

Madara snorted. “Stop being so pestering,” he grumbled. Tobirama sighed, placed a hand on his shoulder, and hirashined them away. 

~*~*~*

They came upon a nasty fight. The moment his paws touched solid earth, he was ducking, narrowly avoiding a kunai taking off an ear. Tobirama spat a curse beside him, hands moving quickly, forming signs for his water dragon jutsu. 

Madara crouched, tails lashing, ears twitching, taking in the scene. The Leaf Shinobi who had confronted the rouge shinobi were outnumbered, by a lot. As he watched, a young Hyuuga wobbled, shaking under the force of a blow he barely managed to block. Without thinking, Madara surged forwards, sweeping past the Hyuuga and clamping his teeth over the rouge shinobi’s neck. He tore out his throat viciously, and dropped back down, looking over his shoulder at the young man. 

“Dara-chan!” he exclaimed, pale eyes lighting up. Madara snorted, pressing his nose against the man, no more than a boy really. He seemed fine; if only a little shaken. Spinning on his back legs, Madara bounded away, locking onto another shinobi and tackling him from behind. As soon as he finished him off, he flared his tails, catching another two and sending them careening into solid trees. They didn’t get up from where they fell. 

“Hey, Dara!” another Leaf Shinobi called with a grin. “Glad you could make it!” Madara pulled his lips back in an imitation of a smile, trotting up beside him to assist finishing off his opponent. Past them, Tobirama blew away another rouge with his water dragon, looking as unruffled as always. Irritating Senju. 

Licking his lips, Madara turned to chase down another shinobi, then another, and then another. By the time most of them were finished off, he was exhausted. Without access to his immense reserves of chakra, he tired out much faster. There were only a few more left. 

With a heavy grunt, Madara turned, locking onto a shinobi with spiky short hair, wielding two blades that glowed with chakra. Ohh, fun. Lashing his tails, Madara started towards her. At first, a look of terror crossed her face when she saw him. And then, as he drew closer, she grinned. 

Madara stopped dead in his tracks. He had enough experience to know what when an enemy smiled like it, it may be a trap. Sage, was he ever right. 

His attention being locked on the shinobi, suspicious of her moves, and his sensory abilities locked away, currently inaccessible, he failed to notice the shinobi surging up from the ground beside him until it was too late. He whirled about with a snarl, jaws opening to lock onto the shinobis throat, when the thick spear he had been wielding pierced him through the chest and out his left side. 

His snarl turned into a fit of high shrieks, like a dog when it had been struck. He staggered back, howling, and the shinobi twisted the spear, its barbed tip ripping into him. “Pretty fox,” the man leered. “You’d look good with your skin pinned against my wall.” He yanked his spear out, drawing with it a rush of blood, and Madara panicked. 

Rule number 1 of the battlefield. Never, ever remove an impaled object. It was the only thing keeping the blood inside of you. He bared his blood stained teeth through the pain, and the shinobi grinned back. He made as though to move closer, when an enormous water dragon engulfed him. 

“Dara!” a Leaf Shinobi cried, dropping beside him just as he staggered to his haunches. The girls hands pressed against his chest, and another set of hands against his side, trying to slow the breathing. “Tobirama Sensei!” she cried. 

Tobirama was there a moment later, red eyes as cool and calm as always. “Calm down, Kiyai, he’ll be fine. Dara?” He lifted his hands, raising an eyebrow. Madara nodded his assent once, and Tobirama reached for him, hirashining them back to Konoha. 

~*~*~*

They landed in the middle of Hashirama’s living room. The hour was late, the Hokage was home, and he was incredibly startled to see his brother, a number of his LEaf Shinobi, and a bleeding fox suddenly appear on his favorite rug from Suna. 

The moment he saw Madara slumping, black fur matted with blood, his temporary panic fled him, replaced by practised calmness gained through years of battle experience. “Go home, everyone,” he said, rolling up his sleeves. “I can handle this.” 

“But, Lord First,” one of the shinobi protested. “Dara-chan-” 

“I’ll take care of him,” he promised, and waved them out. Tobirama stood, ushering them out the doors, and Hashirama took his place in front of Madara. 

“What did you do, Mads,” he breathed. “I told you to be careful.” 

“I was,” Madara rasped, wet and slow. He curled onto the rug with a groan, and Hashirama, hands glowing with green chakra, set to work assessing his wounds. He had just barely begun when a rolling wave of violent chakra, furious and frantic, crashed over them all. Tobirama staggered like he had been struck, hands lifting to his temples, and Hashirama winced. 

Seconds later, Kurama was there, standing over Madara with a snarl. “WHO DARES?!” he thundered, glaring dangerously at the Senju’s. 

“Kur...is fine,” Madara wheezed. “Not them.” Hashirama sucked in a sharp breath, willing Madara’s torn flesh to knit together faster, to stop him from bleeding out. Kurama hissed, leaning down to nudge him gently. 

“What did you do, pup?” the Tailed Beast wondered, and Madara only wheezed in response. 

“Tobirama,” Hashirama prompted, as his chakra started to take effect. “What happened?” 

“It was fine, for the most part,” Tobirama, lowering his hands with a wince. Now that Madara didn’t seem to be in immediate danger, Kurama reigned in his chakra, letting him focus without his oppressive fury weighing down on him. “Madara seems to tire out a little quicker. He was caught off guard. It won’t happen again.” 

“Damn right it won’t,” Hashirama said icily. Most of the blood vessels were closed. Connective tissues were starting to knit back together. Some of his blood was on his hand. The sight made his stomach turn. “I should never have sent you out,” 

“Shut...up,” Madara rasped, closing his eyes with a whine. “Wanted to.” 

“Wanted and should have are two very different things,” Hashirama grumbled unhappily, and Madara huffed, but didn’t reply. It took several more long minutes until his wounds were sufficiently healed. When it was finished, Hashirama leaned back, and wiped the sweat from his brow. 

Kurama stepped over Madara, and dropped down half beside and half on top of him, nosing along his back, his sides, his nape, looking for more wounds. He licked away the blood in his fur, and Madara didn’t even protest. He just yawned, laid back, and accepted it. 

“You should make an appearance soon,” Tobirama said to him. “Half the village would have known you were hurt by now. They’ll be worried.” Madara grunted in response, and Tobirama arched an eyebrow. “Who would have thought that you’d become the most popular and beloved individual in our village?” he mused, almost to himself. “How bizarre.” Mumbling to himself, Tobirama squeezed Hashirama’s shoulder, and let himself out. 

When he was gone, Kurama lifted his head, giving him a long, assessing gaze. He shuffled uncomfortably. “Do you...need, something?” he asked awkwardly. The 9 Tails squinted at him. 

“I have an idea,” he said suddenly, standing up. “I will see the Uzumaki.” With that, he vanished, leaving him and Madara alone. They stared at each other for a moment, and then Hashirama sighed. 

“Do you want to...I don’t know...Go somewhere comfortable?” Madara’s dark eyes twinkled. 

“I wouldn’t be opposed.” 

“Good. Yeah. Okay.” He shuffled forward, crouching down and gathering Madara in his arms. He wasn’t exactly small, or light. But he wasn’t the Senju Clan head for nothing. With a grunt, he hefted Madara up, and carried him upstairs. He bypassed the Fox Room, as he was calling it, and headed straight for his own. There, he set Madara down on the bed, and the black fox wiggled gingerly under the covers. He was largely healed, but he’d be sore and stiff for a while yet. Excessive moment would hurt. 

Hashirama joined him, pressing his chest against Madara’s soft back and wrapping an arm carefully around his side. Madara snuffed quietly, and a few of his tails curled back, draping over Hashirama’s waist and legs, tying them inexplicably close. 

“You have to be more careful,” Hashirama whispered after a few minutes of quiet cuddling. “You’re not nearly as untouchable as you were before.” 

“I know.” 

“I’m serious, Madara. What if you had been-”

“I know, Hashirama.” He buried his head under the covers. “I know. It won’t happen again. Shut up and sleep. We have work to do tomorrow.” 

~*~*~*~

They left for the office early, far earlier than usual, to avoid the inevitable crowd of people who would want to see ‘Dara’ alright. They settled into their new system quickly: Hashirama plonked a pile of papers in front of Madara, and the fox would read and sort them into the approved pile or the ‘needs revision’ pile. It was a tedious day, boring and uneventful. 

After his thousandth yawn, Madara took the hint, flicking his tails to signal Hashirama that it was time to go home. The look of relief on his face was comical, and Madara would have snickered if he hadn’t been so tired too. 

The walk home was even even more exhausting. They could barely walk 5 meters before meeting another citizen, cooing over Madara and expressing their relief that he had not been badly hurt. Madara might have been pleased by all the attention if he wasn’t sore and tired and cranky. The moment they were home, Madara went to the Fox Room, surprised that Kurama wasn’t there. Maybe he was still off with Uzumaki. 

He left the room, hunting down Hashirama, and promptly made himself comfortable against his side where he sat on the couch, gazing down at a book. “Where’s Kurama?” he grumbled, closing his eyes. Hashirama started absentmindedly stroking his head. 

“He left for a little bit. Tobirama informed me a while back. Some business to take care of. He’ll be back soon.” Madara frowned, finding himself uneasy at the thought of Kurama being so far out of reach. 

‘It’ll be fine,” he told himself, curling up further against Hashirama, all broad and wide and warm. ‘I’m not helpless. Plus, I have the feeling Hashirama isn’t going to let me out of his sight for a while.’ 

~*~*~*~

He was very right. Hashirama hardly gave him a moment's peace for the next few days, constantly fretting and checking over his injury, which had practically vanished by now. His hovering earned him a couple hard bites to the hand, and more than a few left a mark. On one hand, Madara enjoyed being spoiled. On the other, all he really wanted to do was run around outside the village, getting his taste of fresh air. But Hashirama only ever let him go from his home to the Hokage tower and back. No more visiting the Uchiha district whenever he wanted; Hashirama insisted on accompanying him. 

As such, Madara took up the habit of wiggling through the window Hashirama always left open in his room for a little night time adventure, running along the rooftops, tails waving for balance. It was always a chore to extract himself from the Senju’s sleepy embrace, but he was a fox. They were crafty and sly. 

In hindsight, maybe sneaking out without anyone knowing wasn’t his brightest idea. Especially not when Kurama was away. After all, with the foxes away, vultures swept in to gleefully play.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kurama's a protective momma


	4. Taken (Don't mess with Kurama's pup, pt 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't even know

~*~*~*~

Apparently, word spread that the Leaf Village’s Kage had an exotic pet. 

Apparently, word spread that this pet was as beautiful and rare as it was fierce. 

Apparently, there was a lofty price on his head. 

Great. 

~*~*~*

Looking back, Madara would have recognized it as a trap, if he had thought to look at it that way. He was trotting along the top of Konoha’s great wall, tails swaying every which way, when his sensitive nose picked up on something unfamiliar. Without thinking anything of it, he headed over to investigate. 

He failed to notice the black lines of a seal carved into the ground just beyond the borders of the village, hidden expertly by leaves and dust. Had his chakra not been out of reach, he would have sensed the presence of a dozen or so shinobi hidden in the bushes all around. Had he approached things cautiously, he would never have been in this predicament. 

But here he was, lying dazed on the ground, his body limp and unresponsive after a massive surge of electricity and chakra coursed through him when he stepped into the trap seal. His body tingled and twitched, but wouldn’t respond to his demands to stand up and bare his teeth. His hunters melted out of the forest, silent and swift. 

A muzzle was fitted over his jaws, a heavy collar around his neck, and his tails bound together with chains. If he wasn’t so furious with himself, and with them, he would have been humiliated at being treated like a dog. 

Briefly, he found himself regretting that Tobirama wasn’t in the village at the time. The albino would have surely sensed the presence of these shinobi next to him, and would undoubtedly have come to investigate. He was well aware of Madara’s little night escapades, but luckily didn’t say a thing about it to Hashirama. Perhaps he thought it wasn’t important enough. 

Regardless, here he was, muzzled, collared, chained, and caged, glaring at the men staring back at him. It infuriated him, the way they spoke about it, like he was an animal. To them, he was. 

“Where did he ever get such a creature?” one of the men was wondering, leaning closer to the bars. If he hadn't been so securely muzzled, he would have lunged forwards and bitten his face off. 

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” another man said proudly. He had been part of the group to spirit him off from Konoha. “A fox with such colouring is rare. Let alone one with 9 tails. It’s a beautiful mistake of nature.” 

“One that should fetch a high price,” another said, and Madara growled, low and dark. 

“Do you think,” a tall woman said, with disdainful eyes and a thoughtful expression, “that if we breed it, its offspring would have its traits?” 

“Imagine all the possibilities that could lead to,” the first man said, eyes lighting up at the promise of fortune. “Imagine if we have even 6 or so litters of fox kits with more than 1 tail. A rarity such as they could go for a lot.” 

“And we’d have the monopoly on that market,” the woman said. Madara seethed inwardly. How dare they speak about using him as some type of brood mare! He bared his teeth, and the woman smirked. It was a cold, cruel thing. 

“Go and find some females,” she said. “Make sure they’re a little bigger. We don’t want him to break them.” 

‘I’ll break your stupid neck, you bit-’

“Oh, and make sure they know that we’re bringing along something special.” 

Who were they?

Madara sat back, glaring at them as they dispersed, until only the woman and another man were left. “He’ll be a thing of status,” the man said. “Something to show off. A symbol of wealth and power. The demand for him will be high. We’ll have to be careful. When others find out the First Hokage’s pet has been stolen, they’ll be looking. And more will try to take this opportunity to snatch him from us and take the profit for themselves.” 

“No one will find us here,” the woman said loftily. “And if any get too close, we can always sell him to the highest bidder and make him someone else's problem. But not before we get some kits out of him.” She leaned closer to the bars, tapping a manicured nail against the metal. “Let’s hope they pick up on his characteristics. It’d be a shame to go through all the effort only to have a stunted litter. Although, if they don’t have his tails or colour, they could make an excellent coat.” 

~*~*~*~

They, Madara soon found out, referred to an extended network of people who hunted, trapped, sold, and traded exotic animals. An illegal pet trade was not what Madara had been expecting. But he was surprised at how much value and wealth was made at these places. Animals with strange mutations, appearances, colours, and sizes were all over. Anything that made them unique, different from the norm, seemed to carry great value. 

In this well hidden, underground chamber, which was much fancier than it should have been, these animals were bid on, sold, and carted away to their new masters homes. It infuriated him that he was center stage. He was given a bigger cage, and his tails were unbound so they were on full display. 

At first he paced back and forth, growling at everyone who stopped to look at him. Due to the frequency of it, he gave up long ago, and now sat in the center, glaring straight ahead of him, while all around him people stopped and stared and whispered. In the corner of his cage was a trio of female foxes, big and bright orange. One of them seemed to be in heat, if her irritating little yips and howls were any indication. 

He wrinkled his nose in disgust. He would not mate with them, much to his kidnappers' irritation. But they left the females in with him, in the off chance he’d change his mind. Fat chance. But he also refused to kill them. It wasn’t their fault they were here annoying him. 

One of the braver vixens came closer to him, stretching her neck to sniff at him. She was big, bigger than the other two, and much bolder. He stayed still, letting her sniff and nuzzle him. Then, to his surprise, she curled against his side with a snuff. He growled softly, but she didn’t move. 

A loud commotion drew his attention, and he perked his ears. Ah, seems the bidding was beginning. As was common in auctions, the less exostic, less valuable creatures were being bartered off first. He wondered how long it would be until it was his turn, or if his kidnappers were even going to sell him, or if they had just brought him here to show him off. They had hardy moved from their places at his cage, glaring at anyone who got too close. 

He came to the conclusion that they were not intending to sell him when they covered up his cage with thick curtains, hiding him from view. He felt the cage moving, and sighed heavily. The vixen next to him blinked when he laid down beside her, and curled into him. He wasn’t even annoyed. She reminded him a little of Kurama. The thought made him feel a little sick. He missed the other fox. 

With a sigh, he curled around her, and closed his eyes. 

~*~*~*~

“If they’re going to be useless, get rid of them,” one of the men was snapping. Madara had been with them long enough to learn his name was Jako. The woman with the haughty eyes was called Kota. 

“Sometimes these things take time,” another said. Urgh, Reilo. Madara hated him. He smelt weird. “Lots of fox species court for a few weeks before mating. Maybe he just has to get to know them first.” 

“Or what if he’s one of the species that mates for life?” Kota countered. “Then we’re keeping two of them for nothing. Leave the big one, take the other two away.” 

Madara growled quietly. It had been a week since they have shoved the three vixens in with him. The one was no longer in heat, but he was growing fond of them. Not in a mate kind of way. But a pet kinda way. As far as he was concerned, they were his now. 

The big one he named Calica. She had very thick, orange fur, a wide white stripe down her chest and belly, large black tipped ears, and a darker than normal tail. The other one, who had been in heat previously, he called Akiro. She was shy, and took a while to warm up to him. Her fur was completely white, and almost had a blue tinge to it. He quite liked her; she was quiet and calm, and usually preferred to curl up next to him rather than play. The last one Madara thought might be the youngest. Her name was Nyx, for he thought it matched her mischievous personality. She liked to play with his tails, batting at them and nipping at them whenever she could. Her orange fur was dark, and the black of her tail, legs, and ears was stark and striking. 

They were his now, and he wasn’t about to let these idiots take them away. He growled dangerously whenever one of them drew near. They hadn’t been able to rebind his tails, and they seemed loath to electrocute him again. Maybe they thought it would decrease his mating drive. Idiots. 

He had been taken to three more pet trades, but not sold. He suspected that his kidnappers were showing him off, stirring interest in hopes that some big buyer would be interested. They had been offered large sums plenty of times, but it didn’t seem to be enough for them. They turned down every single offer. 

Madara didn’t know if he should be relieved or not. He didn’t want to be here, but he also didn’t want to be with some other stranger. He wanted to go home. 

He thought of Hashirama, and sighed. Did he even know why he was gone? Had he assumed that Madara had run off again, for good this time? He wondered if he even bothered to try and look for him. ‘It wouldn’t surprise me if he didn’t,” Madara thought. He looked down at Nyx, curled between his front paws. 

“After all,” he whispered, so his kidnappers wouldn’t hear, “what have I done to deserve saving?” 

Nyx blinked up at him sleepily, and leaned up to lick his cheek in response. 

~*~*~*~

Apparently, he did something right, at least. They had just returned from yet another trade event a few hours ago when their underground hideout shook monstrously. Madara looked up, drawing his tails close to him, and the hideout trembled again. His cage was shoved in a corner, and he had a good view of the shinobi who stole him. 

A much more aggressive tremble caused dust and small rocks to fall from the cavern ceiling, and the shinobi paused, realizing something was amiss. Before they could wonder what was going on, the ground above them opened up, raining rocks and dust down on them and revealing a mesmerizing night sky. 

But it wasn’t the stars that took Madara’s breath away. It was the furious 9 Tailed Fox looming above them, and the giant wood dragon right at his side. 

Kurama roared, grasping the edges of the hole he had created, and ripped them further apart. The moment there was more space, the wood dragon slipped in through it, drawing itself up and bellowing. Vines and roots started to sprout from the rock walls, catching the fleeing, terrified shinobi. Madara spread his tails, covering the three terrified foxes, and watched in awe as Kurama ripped his way into the cavern, all 9 tails lashing and furious. 

“Madara!” a familiar voice called, and Madara was surprised at the wave of immense relief that washed over him. He turned from Kurama’s fearsome fury, seeing Hashirama leap down from his wood dragon and rush towards him. He padded over the bars, and Hashirama reached through, hands on either side of his face. 

“Are you alright?” he whispered, deep eyes dark with worry. Madara nodded, and Hashirama deftly undid the muzzle and the collar. “Stand back,” he said, taking a few steps away and clasping his hands. Madara stepped back, and roots wrapped around the bars, twisting mightily and ripping the bars apart until it was big enough for him to slide through. 

Madara jumped out, shaking himself and spreading his tails to their full extent for the first time in a long while. He turned to Hashirama, and without thinking twice, jumped on him, knocking him to the ground and making himself comfortable on his chest. He buried his nose into the crock of his neck, and the Senju laughed, tussling his fur affectionately. 

“I missed you, too,” he said, propping himself on his elbows. His smile softened, and he leaned forward to rest his forehead against Madara’s. “I’m glad you’re okay,” he said, rubbing his ears. Madara hummed quietly, pulling away with Kurama unleashed another thundering roar, skewering one of the remaining shinobi on his claws. “We have to get out of here,” Hashirama said, sitting up and gently pushing him off. 

Madara grunted, rolling to his feet, and trotted right back into his cage. “Madara!” Hashirama cried, uncomprehending. His confusion melted away when Madara reappeared, holding Akiro gently in his jaws, with Calica and Nyx cowering at his feet. “Of course,” Hashirama said, smiling. “You made some friends.” He knelt down, collecting Nyx in his arms. “Come on!” he called, leaping back onto his wood dragon. Madara followed, depositing Akiro next to him and going back for Calica. 

Once they were all set, Hashirama’s wood dragon rose up, slipping back the raging Kurama, and brought them up and out of the cavern. 

~*~*~*~

Kurama continued his rampage for another hour, long after all the enemy shinobi had been killed and the cavern destroyed. It was only when he had finally worked out his rage that he finally returned to the little camp the Leaf Shinobi had set up. There was only Hashirama, Tobirama, and Madara and his foxes. Madara thought he would be surprised at the tiny number of his rescuers, but he wasn’t. After all, they were the most powerful in the Fire Country. Maybe all of the countries. 

He was curled in front of the fire, head in Hashirama’s lap, when Kurama returned, shrunk down to the size of a horse. 

“Pup,” the 9 Tails rasped. Madara swiftly untangled himself, bounding towards him and letting Kurama press him down and smoulder him, running his nose all over him, checking for injuries. “You are not to leave me again!” Kurama growled, leaning down on him and pinning him under his weight. Madara was too relieved to see him to protest. 

“Kurama has been in a right fit since you went missing,” Tobirama said, red eyes glinting in the light of their fire. “We’ve been looking for you for days. Whoever they were, they hid their tracks well.” 

“They were no one important,” Madara said, running his cheek against Kurama’s chest. “They pose no threat to Konoha, or any village, really.” 

“So, what did they want with you?” Hashirama asked, petting Akiro, who laid quietly on his lap. Madara snorted. 

“Your exotic pet,” he said irritably. “This is what we get for you parading me around everywhere.” 

“I DON’T parade you anywhere!” Hashirama protested, and he gave the Senju a deadpan stare. 

“You do,” Tobirama said, sitting down next to his brother. Madara wiggled free from Kurama, bumping his head under his chin affectionately. 

“You worried me,” the orange fox growled. “Don’t you ever go out alone again.” 

“Kurama I am not helpless,” he grumbled, even though he winced at his words. He HAD been hurt just recently...and now he got snatched from his own home and held captive for well over a week. “I just wasn’t careful.” 

“You must be,” Kurama said. “I will not stand for my pup to be hurt.”

“It’s fine, Kurama.” He flicked one of his tails under Kurama’s chin, and sauntered back to Hashirama. “Long story short, I’m pretty. They thought I’d fetch a decent price in the exotic pet trade.” 

“Pet thieves,” Tobirama deadpanned. “You got snatched up by pet thieves.”

“Don’t put it like that,” Madara grumbled, sitting down and wrapping his tails around his three foxes. 

“Well, isn’t that what happened?” Tobirama shot back, raising a thin eyebrow. Madara grumbled, and curled up next to Hashirama, his back against his side. Absentmindedly, the Senju started to stroke his back. Sighing contently, Madara relaxed for the first time in days. 

~*~*~

They made it back to the village late the next day. As had become their system, Madara slipped into Hashirama’s room, and made himself comfortable on his bed. His three adopted foxes were in the Fox Room with Kurama. 

Having changed into his sleeping yukata, Hashirama slipped under his covers, pulling them up to his chin with a sigh. Madara rearranged himself, curling up on his lower belly and thighs. Hashirama smiled, reaching down to ruffle his ears. The black fox hummed quietly, closing his dark eyes. 

“I missed you,” Hashirama confessed, and Madara blinked open his eyes. “It’s kinda hard to sleep without you now,” he admitted sheepishly. “I’m used to your presence. Your warmth…” 

“You’re embarrassing,” Madara grumbled, swishing two of his tails in front of his face. Hashirama chuckled, rubbing him affectionately, but let the matter slide. Madara started purring quietly, preening under the attention. Hashirama closed his eyes, and let his quiet rumbles lull him to sleep.   
~*~*~

He woke up to a significantly strange feeling on top of him. A change in weight, more specifically. He blinked, opening his eyes, and automatically reached down to touch Madara’s fur. His fingers carded through the dark strands, and he then noticed something. It was...longer. 

He jolted upright, wide eyes meeting the equally startled ones of Madara. A very human Madara. 

“Mads,” he gasped, automatically reaching out. He cupped Madara’s face, running his thumbs over high cheekbones, and under bewildered eyes. “You’re back,” Hashirama muttered, letting a gentle smile cross his face. He leaned closer, ignoring the way Madara was sprawled over him, still in the burnt, torn clothes he had been wearing before turning into a fox. 

As he leaned in further, Madara suddenly pushed himself up onto his hands, dark eyes widening even further. “I...I’m gonna take a bath.” He shoved himself up and off and the bed, and all but fled to the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him. 

Well, at least he could use doors now. Hashirama immediately berated himself for that being his first thought. Sage, Madara was back. Now what? Now that he was no longer a fox, Hashirama doubted he’d be so keen to give and receive affection anymore. And he already missed it. What if Madara went back to his untouchable self? What if he never joked and teased and laughed so easily anymore? 

He was drawn from his musings by a high pitched yelp coming from the bathroom. Hashirama leaped to his feet in surprise, throwing off the covers and rushing towards it. “Madara!?” he cried, throwing open the door. As soon as he walked in, he was torn between laughing and dismay. 

Sitting in the bathtub, covered in foam and bubbles, was Madara; all black fur, fluffy ears, and 9 tails. They hung over the edges of the bathtub pathetically, and Madara stared at him, wet and startled. 

“Oh,” Hashirama said. “Well, this is...unexpected.” 

Madara whimpered, ears dropping, and adding to his overall pathetic look. “Oh, Madara,” Hashirama sighed. “What are we gonna do with you?” 

“I thought it wore off,” Madara hissed, frowning at the bubbles. Hashirama sat down beside him, scooping up a handful of bubbles and rubbing it into his fur. 

“It might just take some time,” he said, scooping some water up in his hands and rinsing the soapy bubbles off of him. Hashirama continued soaping and rinsing the fox, and he grumbled at it, but accepted. 

Dripping wet and spilling water all over the floor, Madara shook himself, making an even bigger mess. Hashirama couldn’t even bring himself to berate him. Instead, he just tossed a towel over him, and started to rub him dry. It took some time, and by the time he deemed himself done, Madara was still a little damp, but oh, so fluffy. 

“We’ll figure it out, Mads,” he said gently, guiding him back to his room. 

“I’m sick of this,” the little fox said despairingly. “I just…” He trailed off, and Hashirama took his head in both hands. 

“It’s okay, Madara,” he soothed. “You’ll be okay.” Madara just whined quietly, and unexpectedly plopped himself down on Hashirama’s chest, tails curling over his legs. He didn’t say anything, just buried his nose into his hair. Hashirama looped his arms around the fox, resting his chin on his fur. 

“You’ll be okay…” 

~~*~*~

When he woke up the next morning, Madara was sitting on top of his desk, legs crossed, wearing an oversized yukata. One of Hashirama’s. He was human; or mostly, at least. Sticking up from his spiky hair was two large, fluffy ears. 9 equally fluffy tails swayed out behind him. 

“So,” Madara said, setting down the cup of tea he had been holding. His nails were black tipped claws. “We may have a little bit of a problem.”


	5. The Truth Comes Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone with talent draw Madara as a fox pleaseeee :D 
> 
> Also, things will get on in the next chapterrr

~*~*~

Hashirama watched Madara fidget uncomfortably under Mito’s assessing hands. Next to her, Tobirama looked fascinated. Rather like he much like to haul Madara down to his lab and dissect him, figure out what was happening to him on a cellular and molecular level. Madara seemed to have the same suspicion. 

“Keep your greedy little fingers away from me, Senju,” he growled when Tobirama leaned around Mito to get a closer look at one of his fluffy ears. 

“Play nicely,” Mito said, her hands running slowly over the back of his neck. Madara shuffled uncomfortably, but stayed still. Hashirama sat right beside him, one thigh pressed against his. Madara’s claws tapped lightly against his own leg, and his tails swayed behind him anxiously. 

“Well?” he prompted, when Mito pulled away. “Is it...going away?” Mito sighed softly. 

“No. It seems like it’s coming back, actually.” She took Madara’s hand, pushing up the oversized sleeve. Black lines still wound around his arms, but now his arms were starting to darken with fur again. 

“You’re kidding,” Madara said in despair, but Mito shook her head. 

“I’m sorry, Madara,” she said sincerely. “Kurama and I are trying to figure things out.” Madara groaned, digging his fingers into his hair. 

“How do I hide 9 tails?” he wondered, hopping up off the desk and starting to pace. “Or these stupid ears that-”

He was cut off when a violent shudder coursed through him, and with a startled squeak, his body rippled and burst outward. The black, 9 tailed fox stared at them in his place. “Nooooo,” he whined, promptly dropping to the ground and thunking his chin on the ground. 

“That’s the second time he’s changed back,” Hashirama said, standing. “But it lasted longer this time. Even if he had….ah, some fox characteristics this time around.” 

“We’ll figure something out,” Mito said, bending down to pat Madara on the head. He grumbled at her, but didn’t move. 

“I thought you liked being a fox,” Kurama teased, patting his back with a tail. 

“Yeah, but…” Madara sighed, and hoisted himself to his feet. “Hashirama, let’s go for a walk.” He tilted his head at him, one ear flopping cutely to the side. Hashirama couldn’t say no, even if he wanted to. 

“Sure, Mads,” he agreed. 

“Kurama and I will discuss what may be happening,” Mito said, already pulling out a scroll with a concentrated frown. “Stay out of trouble, Madara. Try not to change in front of anyone.” 

“I make no promises,” Madara said, swishing his tails as they walked out. Hashirama reached out automatically to rest his hand on his back. Madara directed where they went today. And once again, they ended up in the Uchiha district, where they were quickly swarmed by the children that had grown to adore ‘Dara-chan’. 

Hashirama watched him fondly, sitting on some steps and watching them frolic. As cute as Madara was, both as a fox and as a man, it was something else to see him as a blend between the two. What with his fluffy ears and swaying tails. It made him look exotic, alien, and even more appealing. 

He shook his head, pushing away the thought before it could get too heated. Even though one day, he might quite like to see it again. In an entirely different setting. Preferably with less clothing, more heated skin, more of his breathy little sounds. 

Nope, stop. He stood quickly, discreetly adjusting his robes in front of him. He really, really had to stop thinking these things. 

~*~*~*~  
For the next week or so, Madara went through constant changes: from his fox form, his human form, and the strange in-between every once in a while. They grew more uncontrolled, less predictable, and more common. It was only a matter of time before he changed at the wrong time. And just as Hashirama feared, it did indeed happen. At the most inopportune time. 

Madara was in the Uchiha clan district when it happened. He was sitting in the center square, a group of children all around him, and his three foxes now with him too. They had grown out of their nervous shells, and had started following Madara everywhere he went. The children were just as enamoured with them as they were with him. 

Hashirama was with him, of course. He hardly left his side. But Hashirama wouldn’t have it any other way. He liked the constant presence, and told himself he wasn’t enjoying Madara’s adorable irritation at his uncontrolled changes. Which he actually quite was. And he had grown to recognize the signs that signalled Madara was about to change form. Unfortunately, he couldn’t always react in time and hide Madara away. 

Madara was tilting his head, watching the child between his paws trying to figure out a 9 piece puzzle. His tailes flicked lazily behind him, entertaining another two children who tried to jump on them and pin them down. 

So when his ears and tails and legs started to slightly shake, he saw it coming. Madara did too. His eyes shot up to meet Hashirama’s, wide with panic. He started to stand, pulling his tails away from the two children, who whined in protest. He managed only a few shaky steps before his body shuddered, shook, and collapsed into itself. 

The children around him gasped, falling back in surprise, and the adults all around them gawked, stunned. Sitting on his knees, entirely human, Madara met Hashirama’s dismayed eyes with his own horrified ones. 

For a long moment, there was absolute silence. Madara’s foxes settled themselves around him, and Nyx jumped up to sit over his shoulders like a living scarf. “M-Madara?” one of the adults stammered, gawking at his clan head, whom everyone thought had run off, never to come back. 

“Where is Dara-chan?” one of the children whispered. Madara ducked his head a little, hiding behind his mane of hair. 

“Is that really you, Madara?” another Uchiha asked quietly. “This is where you’ve been all this time?” 

“Madara-sama?” 

“Madara-” 

“Hashirama,” Madara muttered, standing quickly. “Let’s go.” He started to hurry past him, but Hashirama grabbed his wrist, and yanked him back. 

“Wait, Madara,” he said quietly. “I think it’s time we told the truth.” Madara stared back at him, dark eyes wide with disbelief. 

“Madara-sama is...Dara-chan?” another Uchiha wondered, sounding confused. 

“He’s Dara-chan?” a child whispered loudly, gazing up at the clan head in awe. “He’s so pretty!” 

Hashirama smiled, turning Madara around to face his clan. “I feel we may have some explaining to do,” he said to them. 

“So our missing clan head, he’s been here this entire time?” an older Uchiha asked, fascinated. She hobbled forwards, pausing in front of Madara and squinting at him. “We thought you had left us, Clan Head.” 

Madara finally looked up, his dark eyes meeting hers. “I never meant to go,” he said quietly. 

“How have you come to possess the body of a fox?” another older Uchiha asked, and Madara sighed. 

“I called upon the aid of the 9 Tailed Beast to help me kill Hashirama and destroy Konoha,” he said plainly, and the gathered crowd gasped. Madara wasn’t deterred. “However, something went wrong, and I ended up somehow gaining some of the 9 Tails characteristics. Such as his form, it seems. Hashirama brought me back, and I’ve been here ever since. And our esteemed Hokage insisted I remain….hidden.” 

“Why would you not tell us? We are your clan!” 

“And how would you have reacted to finding out I’m stuck in the body of a fox?” Madara shot back, finally letting some of his anger and frustration slip into his tone. “What kind of clan head gets trapped into another body and cannot serve his clan?” 

“What kind of clan head hides the truth from his people!” the older woman cried back. “You have made many an error, young Uchiha. But this may perhaps be the worst of them.” 

“Oh?” Madara challenged, raising a finely shaped eyebrow. Hashirama resisted the urge to sigh at his tone. “THIS is one of my biggest errors? Not the fact that I misread the tablet, not the fact that I fully intended to leave the clan and village and come back to destroy it?” 

“The Uchiha are a clan of love,” said an ancient Uchiha, so old she could barely stand straight. “We make mistakes, but the Uchiha are a clan. A family. And you are our own.” 

“How can you say that?” Madara demanded, outraged. “I turned by back on you, my clan, who I was supposed to lead and protect! I turned my back on the village I helped create. I turned on my friends, my family, and yet you dare to-”

“If you wanted to hurt us, you could have done so many times over,” a young adult pointed out. She was the mother of a little girl who very much adored ‘Dara-chan’. “You could have killed or hurt any of us as Dara, yet you didn’t. Why not?” 

Madara paused, staring at her with a perplexed expression. “Madara, you’ve redeemed yourself,” Hashirama said quietly. He smiled when Madara turned to stare at him. “At least you have in my eyes.” 

“And the eyes of your clan,” the ancient woman said, hobbling up to Madara and putting a hand on his cheek. He frowned down at her, then shuddered violently, bursting into his fox form. After only a brief pause, the Uchiha children got over their bewilderment, delighted at Dara’s return. A few of the adults looked wary when they surrounded him. But Madara was Dara, and Dara was loved and trusted. The Uchiha were a compassionate clan. Contrary to what Madara believed, his clan did not hate him. They did not turn on him. They were merely waiting for him to find himself back. 

~*~*~

Now, whenever he went about the town, he was not greeted as ‘Dara-chan’. Word had quickly spread that the black, 9 tailed fox was, in fact, the one and only Uchiha Madara. Yet, rather to his surprise, he was not met with hateful, untrusting stares. Some looked at him a little warily, and he didn’t receive quite as many pets. But he was rather accepted, much to his surprise, and Hashirama’s delight. 

The Senju now gladly called him Madara in public, and encouraged him to speak in public, rather than before. He was hesitant to do so. At first, he only spoke to his own clan, and even then it was limited. But gradually, he opened up. At first, it was only to children. They were fascinated that their beloved fox could turn into a man, and were constantly badgering him with questions. He didn’t have the heart not to answer them. 

Adults started to approach him too, hesitant at first, but quickly growing in confidence. Since Madara spent far more time as a fox than a man, he seemed much easier to approach. Perhaps that was because there was almost always a child or two clinging to him. 

To his surprise, Madara continued to sleep with Hashirama. He woke up as a human occasionally, but always removed himself before Hashirama could wake up. He didn’t want to put himself in that situation. 

Oddly, Kurama spent a lot of time with Mito and Tobirama. Whenever he questioned them on what they were doing, they skillfully evaded their questions. Whatever they were working on, it clearly had something to do with Madara’s condition. Every once in a while, Tobirama or Mito would walk up, ask him a question, or even go so far as to poke and prod at him. 

Now, currently sitting on Hashirama’s bed, tails flicking lazily, he watched the man pace about his room, poking at his things, and muttering under his breath. Every time he walked by him, he’d pat Madara on the head, or scratch his chin. 

If he ever went back to his normal state, he wondered if Hashirama would still dote on him, still lavish attention on him. Probably, he decided. That was just the way Hashirama was. Naive and loving and unstoppable. 

“Hashirama,” he said finally, growing tired of the mans pacing. “It’s late, and we have work to do. Come to bed already.” Hashirama looked over his shoulder at him, quicking an eyebrow. 

“Oh? So eager to get me into bed, Madara?” His voice dropped into a purr, and Madara looked away, lifting his nose and flicking his ears. 

“Idiot Senju. Go. To. Sleep.” Hashirama laughed, blowing out his candles, and joining him on the bed. 

“Come here,” he said, burrowing under the covers and reaching out for him. Madara went to him readily, letting Hashirama wrap his arms around him. “Will you still do this?” he asked, snuggling into his fur. 

“Do what?” Madara yawned, unconsciously flopping his tails back to wrap around Hashirama. 

“Sleep with me,” Hashirama said.

“So desperate, Hashirama,” Madara teased, and the Senju snorted. 

“No, seriously. I’m so used to sleeping with you, I really don’t think I can without you. When Tobi and Mito are done with...ah, er, figuring out-”

“Done figuring out what?” Madara asked, turning around to stare at him. 

“Nothing!” Hashirama said quickly. Too quickly. With that little smile he always wore when he wasn’t telling him something. 

“Senju,” he said darkly, flattening his ears. “What are you hiding from me?” 

“Nothing, Mads,” Hashirama soothed. “It’s okay, don’t worry your pretty fluffy head. Take your own advice, and get some sleep.” 

“Hashirama-”

“Madara.” 

They stared at each other, and finally Madara turned with a huff. “Stupid Senju,” he muttered. “You know you can’t hide things from me forever.” 

“I don’t have to, Mads.” 

~*~*~*~

He woke up to a tuft of fur brushing his face. Skin replaced fur, and Hashirama opened his eyes to see a much missed sight. Madara, his ears and tails moving lazily in his sleep, was curled against him, mouth parted slightly. Some of his tails were resting quietly behind him. Others were wrapped around Hashirama’s limbs. His head was resting on Hashirama’s chest, and one of his ears was flicking his nose. 

Cute. 

He reached up, and started carding his fingers through Madara’s hair, occasionally stroking up and down his ears. Much to his pleasure, Madara pushed into his touch, claw tipped fingers curling ever so slightly into his chest. It wasn’t unpleasant. Rather, it sent a jolt down his spine. Madara shuffled a little on top of him, settling more comfortably into his broadness. 

A few more minutes of stroking, and Madara was stirring awake. His black, black eyes met his, and he blinked sleepily at him. “Good morning, Madara,” he said quietly. Madara blinked again, and promptly buried his face into his chest, groaning in protest. 

“No,” he mumbled. Hashirama chuckled softly, and let him be. He continued running his fingers through his hair. At one point, they caught on a tangle, and Madara instinctively tilted his head back to alleviate the discomfort. 

Hashirama swallowed hard when he did, catching sight of his pale neck. Before he could think better of it, Hashirama leaned down, pressing his nose against his skin. Madara stilled for just a moment, but relaxed just as quickly. Pleased, Hashirama leaned further down, and slowly, gently, adjusted Madara in his arms until he was lying on his side, with his back to Hashirama. Looping his arms around Madara’s waist, Hashirama nosed his hair aside, and pressed his nose against his nape, inhaling deeply. 

Madara’s scent was pleasant, and he was calm, and quiet. Content in his arms, his tails moving lazily. Hashirama shifted a little closer, and maneuvered one leg between the Uchiha’s. He hummed quietly, still half asleep. Absentmindedly, he started stroking up and down his chest, sliding down to his belly every once in a while. 

“Hashirama,” Madara said after a few minutes. 

“Mhm?” He didn’t really want to move; Madara smelt warm and pleasant, and his tails on Hashirama felt nice. 

“I’m about to change,” he warned. Hashirama sighed, and reluctantly let go. Mdara wiggled away, a shudder running up his spine, and he shifted back into a fox. He half sat up, yawning hugely, and stretched. Hashirama sighed when he hopped off the bed, tails waving, and sauntered out of the room. 

“Where you going?” he called. 

“Home,” Madara replied. Ah, to the Uchiha district then. His clan was starting to get used to his changes back and forth. The rest of the village would probably take a little longer. Although, with luck, they wouldn’t need to.

Maybe he should talk to Tobirama and Mito and Kurama, and see how their progress was coming. As much as he liked Madara’s fox form, he wished he had more time to appreciate him as a human too. 

Much more time. With lots of it spent without the Uchiha in his modest clothings. 

~*~*~

“Give it a few hours, and it’ll take effect,” Mito drawled, giving him a knowing look as he accepted what she handed to him. 

“You’re sure it will work?” he asked, and Mito raised her perfectly manicured eyebrow. 

“Oh, it’ll work. You can thank us after you’ve reaped the benefits.” He flushed, embarrassed, and tucked the tiny piece of paper up his sleeve. 

“Thank you, Mito. I never expected you to be so dedicated to this.” 

She smiled fondly. “Oh, Hashirama. We may have decided we wouldn’t be a good pair, but I love you. And I want you to be happy.” 

“You’re the best,” he said, hugging her enthusiastically. 

“I’m aware,” she said, and patted his cheek when he let her go. “Now, go find your fox. Have fun!” 

~*~*~*~

He found Madara trotting back down the street a while later, with Calcia, Akiro, and Nyx at his heels. “Hashirama,” he greeted, flicking his tails. 

“Hey, Mads,” he said, rubbing his ears. The black fox purred quietly, pressing into the touch. Calcia pawed at Hashirama’s feet, yipping. He smiled, reaching down to pet the fox. “Ready to go home?” Madara nodded, and Hashirama reached out to put his hand in its usual place on his back. As he did, he slipped the seal tag from his sleeve, pressing it against Madara. The seal flared, and the ink slipped from the paper, and burrowed under Madara’s fur. The fox shuddered. 

“Hashirama, stop tugging at me,” Madara complained. Hashirama smiled, relieved that Madara mistook the effects of the seal for him pulling his fur. 

“Sorry,” he sat, patting his back in apology. Madara rumbled, and moved only when Hashirama did. They strode down the street, back to Hashirama’s house. Anticipation shivered up his spine, and he had to remind himself to stay calm. 

“Oh, wait. Kurama and I are going out for a bit tonight,” Madara said unexpectedly. “Can you watch the girls?” 

“You’re such a dad,” Hashirama teased. “How long will you be gone?” 

“Not long. Kurama said something about wanting to run around for a bit.” He pricked his ears, and side-eyed him. “Don’t even think about telling me not to go. NOTHING wrong will happen when I’m with Kurama.” 

“No, you’re right. It’s fine.” Madara gave him a look, surprised that he didn’t protest. “I’ll watch your foxes, don’t worry.” Madara huffed. 

“Thanks. I’ll see you tonight.” He hesitated for a moment, then slowly and purposefully swept one tail under Hashirama’s chin. “Bye, Hashirama.” With that, he trotted away, tails waving playfully, and took off for the gates. Hashirama watched him go, bending to pick up Akiro and hold her in his arms. He stroked her silky white fur, and smiled as Madara disappeared into the dark. 

~*~*~*

Kurama was waiting for him just within the edges of the forest. He was still the size of a horse, and his tails were swaying impatiently. “Ah, hello pup,” he said, stretching his neck to nudge at his shoulder. 

“Kurama,” Madara greeted. “It’s been a while.” Kurama sniffed. 

“You abandoned me for the Senju,” he said, mockingly hurt. 

“I would never. You know that.” 

“I do.” Kurama flicked his giant ears, and his expression was oddly fond. Fonder than usual, at least. “Come, let us run.” 

He spun about, and took off. With a rush of excitement, Madara tore after him, silent and dark and shadowy. He chased Kurama through the trees, weaving in and out of them, tearing through bushes and jumping off boulders, over rivers and streams. 

Their mad dash had his heart pounding like it never had before. A wild grin pulled over his muzzle, and he lunged at Kurama, tripping him and sending them both sprawling. The bigger fox growled, wrapping his arms around him and tugging him down with him. They rolled and grappled and sprawled on the ground, until at last Madara perched on Kurama’s chest, claws digging lightly into him. 

“You make a good fox,” Kurama approved, rolling them over and pinning Madara down. He swished his tails, baring his teeth playfully. 

“I know. I almost don’t like it when I change back into human form.” 

“At least you only stay in it for a little while.” Madara hummed, and wiggled out of his hold. 

“True. Come on, the night is young yet.” Kurama rumbled, surging up, and bolting after him when he took off. Together, the two 9 tailed foxes raced through the forests, howling at the moon and the stars above.


	6. Coming Together After Time Apart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is just.... filth. Don't like, do not read...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You have been warned....

~*~*~

He returned to Hashirama’s room when he and Kurama were done with their mad dash through the trees, high on adrenaline. He hopped onto the bed, where Hashirama was still awake, nose buried in his book. He drew himself up, and drove his front paws onto his stomach. 

“Ack! Madara! Stop doing that!” Hashirama complained, shoving at him. Madara snickered, sitting down on his stomach. 

“Nah. It’s fun.” Hashirama snorted, and stroked his head. 

“How was your run?” he asked. 

“Good. Exhilarating. It’s been a while since I could run like that.” 

“I’m glad,” he said happily. “So, how are you feeling?” Madara flicked his ears at him. 

“Uh...fine? Maybe a little tired. We ran for a long time.” 

“Oh, just tired? Good, good…” 

“Hashirama.” He leaned back, squinting at his face. “What’s wrong with you?” he asked suspiciously. 

“Why do you always think that?” he complained. “Can’t I just be curious about you?” 

“No, you always have some ulterior motive.” Hashirama laughed, shoving his face away and reaching for his book. 

“Go take a nap, Madara.” He flipped open his book back to his page, and Madara yawned, making himself comfortable on his lap. 

“Whatever. Night, Senju.” 

“Night, Uchiha.” 

~*~*~

He jolted awake from his half doze to a strange feeling blooming between his shoulders. He shifted uncomfortably, but it didn’t go away. The unpleasant pinch grew harder, and he sat up abruptly, twisting his neck to nip at the spot. 

“Madara?” Hashirama asked, looking over his book. “You okay?” 

“Yes,” Madara snapped back, squirming a little. He settled back down, lifting his back leg to scratch his cheek. The pinch was spreading, down to the base of his spine, crawling up his neck, and radiating down into his legs. He scratched again, and gave a full body wiggle. 

“Madara, stay still,” Hashirama complained, frowning at him. 

“Sorry.” He plopped down, trying to ignore the uncomfortable sensation. Heat started spreading through his body, and he sat up abruptly. 

“Mads, seriously.” 

“I can’t help it! It’s-” He paused to scratch violently at himself, lifting one of his paws to bite it hard, hoping to alleviate the itch. 

“Hey, hey, Mads, calm down,” Hashirama soothed, finally putting his book down and reaching for him. 

“Let go,” he grumbled, thrashing. 

“Relax,” Hashirama soothed. “It’ll go away soon.” 

“What?” Madara rasped, starting to claw at his chest. “What do you, ow, ow, Hashi, what’s going on?” 

“Mito, Tobirama, and Kurama have been working on this for a while,” Hashirama said, gathering Madara in his arms and holding him squirming against his chest. “It’s a seal, supposed to reverse the one that got you stuck like this in the first place...but, with a twist.” 

“A twist?” Madara panted, flicking his tails wildly. 

“You like being a fox, don’t you?” Hashirama muttered. “And you also want to go back to being a normal person again. This seal will let you be both.” 

“I don’t want to walk around with tails and ears!” Madara squawked. 

“Calm down, you won’t. It’ll let you change between the two forms whenever you want. You can be a man whenever you want, or a fox whenever you want. I put the seal on you before you went off with Kurama. It’s been a few hours, and it's starting to take effect.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Madara hissed, scratching again. 

“I wanted it to be a surprise.” 

“Colour me surprised.” He groaned again, and his lean form started to shudder and shake violently. Hashirama held him through it, humming soothingly. It hurt, quite a bit. It was hot, burning, searing his lungs. 

“I don’t like it,” he whined, and Hashirama patted his shaking shoulders. 

“It’s almost done,” he soothed, and Madaa whimpered again. His body started to stretch, to lengthen, and he wondered why his change was taking so much longer now than before. 

Finally, with a final, painful shudder, his body shrank and crumpled, and he was human once more, leaning on Hashirama’s chest, breathing hard. Hashirama stroked his hair while he calmed down. 

Gathering his strength, Madara pushed himself up, squinting down at Hashirama. “Ow,” he complained, and Hashirama smiled, sitting up and gently nudging at him to straighten. He ended up sitting on Hashirama’s lap, knees on either side of his hips, and Hashirama tugged at the collar of the loose, oversized yukata he was wearing. Inwardly, he preened at the thought of Madara wearing his clothes. 

Moving his clothes aside, Hashirama traced the striking, spiraling seal on Madara’s chest. It inked over his collarbones, circled around his ribs, and tapered off just above his navel. He traced his fingers over it, and Madara shuddered slightly. 

“You can control the change now,” he said, lifting his hands to run his thumbs over Madara’s jaws. 

“Can’t wait to test it out,” Madara said softly, his eyes still fixed on Hashirama. He met his gaze, and held it. 

“Madara,” Hashirama said quietly, and Madara tilted his head, just a little. The Senju’s eyes darkened, and the sight made him shiver. “Don’t slap me for this,” he requested. Madara arched an eyebrow, and Hashirama’s hands tightened on his face, and he leaned closer. 

Was he actually… 

Before he could finish the thought, Hashirama leaned in, and gently pressed his lips against his, shy and tentative. 

How typical. He pulled away. 

“If you’re going to kiss me, do it properly,” he grumbled. Hashirama arched an eyebrow. 

“Is that a challenge?” he drawled. 

“Maybe it-”

Hashirama buried his hands in Madara’s hair, yanking him forward, and kissing him hard. Madara groaned quietly, and gasped softly when he felt Hashirama’s tongue over his lip, requesting entrance. He gave it to him, and Hashirama eagerly accepted the invitation. One of his hands slid down from his hair to his waist, moulding him closer, and he shivered at the touch. 

Gently, and with a smoothness that surprised him, Hashirama rearranged them, so that Madara was lying on his back, Hashirama hovering over him, bracing himself on one elbow, situating himself between his thighs. 

“Hashirama,” he panted, when he pulled back to breathe. The Senju hummed, hands following his arms and curling around his wrists, bringing them up to his head and holding them there. He leaned down, licking and nipping at Madara’s neck, enjoying the way that Madara gasped and squirmed beneath him. 

He arched up instinctively, seeking more contact, and Hashirama chuckled, leaning more of his weight on him, keeping him securely in place. “Patience, Mads,” he drawled, his mouth making his way down his neck and to his chest, following the lines of the seal on his chest. 

“Hashi,” he whined, kicking a little. 

“Patience,” Hashirama scolded, undoing the ties of his yukata, and at the same time somehow wiggling out of his own. Finally, there was nothing in his way. He rocked his hips down, and Madara whimpered, trying to twist his wrists free. Hashirama tightened his hands, not letting him go. 

“Does this irritate you, Madara?” he teased, breathing in his ear. He exhaled shakily, hooking one leg over Hashirama’s hip. 

“The only thing that irritates me is you, you useless Senju!” he hissed. Hashirama chuckled, and released his wrists. Immediately, Madara’s hands shot down to Hashirama’s hair, yanking him down to reconnect their mouths. Hashirama let him, caressing his side gently, adoringly. 

“You’re perfect,” he praised, peppering his face with sloppy kisses. “So, unbelievably perfect.” 

“You’re so embarrassing!” Madara complained, his face burning red. Hashirama laughed. 

“I can kiss you,” he said, “I can touch you, I can make you whimper and whine. But a few innocent praises is what makes you blush like a virgin?” 

Madara darkened even further, and he turned his face away. Hashirama snickered, moving down and biting down on his neck, sucking hard and leaving an attractive purple mark. He bruised so easily, so prettily. Enthusiastically, he sucked another few marks, entertained by the appealing sounds Madara tried to stifle. 

He redoubled his efforts, distracting the Uchiha and discreetly opening the cap to the bottle he had ready under his pillow. He coated his fingers, and deftly slid down his spine till he found his destination. Madara gasped, dark eyes fluttering shut when he felt his fingers enter him. 

“Relax,” Hashirama soothed, sucking on his collarbone to distract him.. Madara moaned softly, urging Hashirama’s face up to him, kissing him messily, desperately. Hashirama accepted it readily, gladly using his tongue to distract Madara when he slipped him another finger, and then another. 

“Enough,” Madara panted. “Hurry up.” 

“So impatient,” Hashirama mused, quirking his fingers and revealing in the way the Uchiha gasped and twitched. He pulled them out, using his slick fingers to prepare himself. He ran his hands down Madara’s arms, interlacing their fingers and holding their hands on either side of Madara’s head again. He kissed him hard, swiping his tongue inside his mouth, and pushed in. 

He moved slow and steady, and with a forceful move, slid into him fully. Madara groaned, head falling back and eyes closing. Hashirama paused for a moment, letting himself get used to the feeling. He lowered his head, breathing deeply with his nose in the crook of Madara’s neck. 

“Move,” Madara rasped, hoarse and demanding. Ever bossy, even now. Hashirama squeezed their interlaced hands, pulling back, and rocking back in. Hard. The delightful sound Madara made had him groaning just as loudly. He quickly picked up the pace, and Madara arched up to meet him, panting and thrashing. He wrenched his hands free, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and digging his nails into his flesh. 

“Madara,” Hashi groaned, moving his hands down to his hips and pulling him back to meet his movements. 

“Come onnnn, Hashi,” Madara whined, clawing at him, surely leaving long red marks. The thought appealed to Hashirama, and he started working on making yet another mark on Madara’s fair skin. By now, his neck, collarbones, and upper chest was beautifully speckled, and the sight sent a surge of pride through him. 

He thrust hard and fast for a couple long more minutes, and Madara thrashed, chest heaving and voice cracking. “Come on, Maddy,” he sang, reaching down to finish it. With a cry, Madara reached his end point, back arching beautifully, eyes closed and wild hair splayed about him. The sight, along with the overwhelming heat around him, tipped Hashirama over the edge as well. 

They came down from their high, panting and sweaty, Hashirama slumped over Madara. His smaller partner pushed at him irritably. “Get off,” he mumbled, but it held no bite. Hashirama paused to nip once more at his neck, and pulled out and away. Madara made a face at the sensation. 

“That was great,” Hashirama said, flopping down beside him. Madara grunted, and he grinned. “Shoulda done that ages ago.” 

“You’re just realizing that now?” Madara snorted. He sat up slowly, groaning in protest as a dull flare of pain radiated up his spine. 

“I have time to correct that wrong,” Hashirama said, eyeing him. 

“Stop thinking with your dick, Senju,” Madara grumbled. For the first time, he looked down at his chest, tracing the seal swirling on his chest. It was beautiful, slender and elegant, contrasting sharply against his pale skin. 

He grunted, standing gingerly. Hashirama watched him with satisfaction as he walked stiffly to the bathroom to clean up. 

~*~*~*~

Madara woke the next morning to something hard pressing against his back. It took him a little while to figure out what it was. He groaned quietly. “Really, Senju?” 

Hashirama laughed sheepishly. “I’m sorry. I can’t help it.” His wide, warm hands firmly grasped his hips, pulling him back against him and thrusting lazily. Despite being tired and sore, he felt himself stirring in interest as Hashirama moved against him. One of his hands moved to his chest, holding him firm and snug, and he rocked against him harder. 

“Idiot Senju,” he groaned. “If you’re going to do it, do it properly.” 

“Your wish is my command,” Hashirama said, swiftly rolling them over and slotting himself between his thighs once again. “I could get used to this,” he said, sliding in. Madara groaned. 

“You irritating Senju’s,” he panted. “With your stupid strength and your stupid endurance and your apparant insatiability, urgh. You’re so annoying and-”

Hashirama cut him off with a passionate kiss and a hard thrust. “So mouthy,” he mumbled into his mouth. “You’d look great when you can’t talk. Maybe black silk. Or red.” 

“Are you seriously talking about gagging me?” Madara demanded, and Hashirama grinned, leaning down and nipping just under his ear. 

“Oh, Dara, you have no idea the things I want to do to you.” 

~*~*~*~

Kurama and Mito were waiting for them downstairs. The Uzumaki princess arched an eyebrow at the state Madara was in, what with his rumpled hair, bruised neck, and dazed expression Hashirama was practically glowing beside him, bouncing like a hyperactive puppy next to his surly companion. 

“Have a good night?” Mito asked teasingly. 

“And a good morning,” Hashirama beamed, and Madara blushed deeply, shuffling towards Kurama. The 9 Tails curled two of his tails around him as he drew near, tugging him closer. 

“Hello, pup. 

“Hi, Kurama,” he mumbled. “Apparently, I have you and Mito to thank for allowing me to walk on two legs again.” 

“And Tobirama,” Mito reminded, and Madara wrinkled his nose. “Have you tried it out yet?” 

“No,” Madara said, shaking his head. “I was, er….otherwise preoccupied…” 

“Of course you were,” Mito snickered. “Give it a shot, why don’t you?” Madara stared at her. “Oh, right. All you have to do is envision yourself as the fox. The seal will do the rest.” 

“Seems simple enough.” Closing his eyes, Madara concentrated, picturing his body shaking, shuddering, and bursting into a black fox with 9 tails. A familiar burn lit his veins, and his muscles started to tremble. It ended just as quickly, and when he opened his eyes again, he was much lower, and he was gazing down at two fluffy black paws. 

“Oh,” he said, surprised. “It actually worked.” 

“Well, of course it did!” Mito sniffed, sounding a little insulted. He purred, and waved his tails, making his way to Kurama. 

“Thank you, Uzumaki, Kurama.” He bumped his head under the other foxes chin, and Kurama rumbled happily. 

“I’m glad that you are happy, little kit,” he said. “Now that things with you are settled, I must go. There are things I must attend to.” 

Disappointment welled up in him. “You’re leaving?” he whined, ears dropping. 

“Sorry, pup. Don’t think this is forever. You will see much of me. Maybe too much.” 

“I’ll hold you to that, Kurama.” He leaned closer with a purr, and Kurama curled around him. “Thank you. For….everything.” Kurama’s eyes gleamed. 

“I’ll always watch over my own,” he said. With a final, affectionate nudge, he stepped back. He paused briefly to glare at Hashirama. “You dare harm or upset a hair on his head, and no power on this earth can hide you from me.” 

“Duly noted,” Hashirama said, nodding. Kurama gave him a long look, then nodded, satisfied. With a puff of smoke, he was gone. 

“Well,” Mito said. “You’re welcome, Madara. Enjoy!” With a wave and a wink, she swaggered out the door. Madara shuffled, focussed, and shifted back to a human. 

“That takes a lot more focus than I thought it would to change,” he commented, looking down at his hands. 

Hashirama glided towards him, taking his hands and lifting them to his mouth. “You look lovely when you do,” he praised. Madara stared at him, and shifted his weight. 

“Hashirama,” he stated slowly. “I think that we should….probably have a talk. About….this?” He waved a hand awkwardly in between them. Hashirama caught his hand again. 

“Whatever you want, Mads.” 

Trying not to blush was impossible, and Madara quickly looked away. Not fast enough, if Hashirama’s fond chuckle was any indication. 

“We can talk, Madara. We’ll work things out.”


	7. A Talk and Desire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is.... *sigh* Hashirama knows what he wants, at least   
> #content proceed with caution :/

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ya'll been warned

~*~*~

When Hashirama agreed to talk, he hadn’t been expecting him to sit down on the couch, grab Madara, and yank him down on his lap. But he did, and Madara scowled at him, starting to shove himself off. Hashirama’s grip was unrelenting. 

“Come now, Mads,” the Senju laughed, smirking at the colouring of his cheeks. “I was literally between your legs less than an hour ago, but sitting on my lap makes you shy?” 

“Of course not!” Madara hissed, ceasing his squirming for the sake of his pride. He glared at the Senju, and Hashirama looked utterly unfazed. 

“So, what do you want to talk about?” Hashirama asked, adjusting Madara a little. He shouldn’t like how easy it was for him to do so. Madara shifted a bit more, pulling against him, and sat the way he wanted to: over Hashirama’s thighs, knees brushing his hips, and straightening his back so they were eye level. 

“Maybe the fact that since I’m half back to normal, you’ve slept with me. Twice.” 

“What about it?” Hashirama asked. Madara resisted the urge to scream and tear his hair out. Of all the naive, bumbling idiots, why did he have to get lumped with this one? “Last I checked, you weren’t complaining,” Hashirama continued, his grin widening, becoming more predatory. “In fact, you were practically begging for-”

“Shut. UP!” Madara snarled, grabbing the collar of his yukata and leaning closer. His chakra, which had been so far out of reach for so long, surged with his emotions, and his dark eyes blazed red. 

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry,” Hashirama apologized, holding up his hands. He kept them there until Madara released him, then let them slide down to rest on his hips. Madara allowed it. For now. 

“How are you so calm about this?” he demanded, his confusion and irritation finally fraying. “How are you so accepting, so forgiving? Why aren’t you angry with me?!” 

“Why would I be angry with you?” he asked in reply, conveniently not answering the rest. Madara gave in the urge to grab his messy hair and yank. The pin pricks of pain radiating from his scalp helped ground him. 

“I tried to kill you! I really, really did, you idiot! I wanted you gone, dead. I wanted this village to burn. I’m only here cuz my plan to do so failed spectacularly! Why don’t you hate me!?” 

Hashirama moved, faster than Madara could, and the world was suddenly spinning. He found himself pinned on his back on the couch, Hashirama looming over him. His eyes were hard, and Madara wondered if he had finally snapped, if he was finally going to give in to the anger he must be hiding. He braced himself for the yells or the blows he was sure would rain down on him. 

“I could never hate you,” Hashirama said instead, and Madara stared at him, uncomprehending. “You are a gift, Madara. My gift from the divine. It is not your fault you were misled, or that you felt isolated. From your clan, your village, me… It's mine, Madara. I shouldn’t have pushed you, I should have been more persistent in my efforts to bring about peace. I should have paid more attention to you. Maybe then I would have noticed how unhappy you were. I put the village before you. I will never do that again.” Hashirama caressed the side of his face with his fingertips, and Madara jerked away. 

“How can you say that?!” he cried, outraged and dismayed. “I TRIED TO KILL YOU!” 

“Yeah, but you didn’t,” he said, not looking bothered by Madara’s shrieking. “You Uchiha, you always act with your heart. If that’s what your heart was telling you to do, I can’t hold that against you.” 

“You’re insane,” Madara whispered, and Hashirama smiled. “I don’t understand you.” 

“What’s so hard to understand?” he shot back. “Madara, I won’t kill you. Not ever. I’d never hurt you again. Why do you think I tried so hard to get you to come back peacefully with me? Why was I so loath to let you go?” 

“Because with me you have a better hold over the Uchiha,” Madara said lamely. His lie tasted like ash in his mouth, but he couldn’t bring himself to even consider the alternative. Hashirama sighed. 

“You know that’s not why. You KNOW the reason. Why is it so hard for you to accept it?” 

“Because I don’t understand it! How can someone like me deserve something like that? Much less from you? It just doesn’t make sense, Hashirama!” 

“Doesn’t it?” Hashirama said. He tilted his head, and his silky hair tumbled over his shoulders, curtaining the side of his face. “You know why, Madara,” he whispered. 

“No,” Madara said, shaking his head. But Hashirama was unrelenting. 

“Yes.” He leaned down, his breath warm against Madara’s cheek. “You are a gift, Madara. MY gift. I love you. I think I always have.” Without giving him the chance to reply, Hashirama kissed him, firm and unrelenting and desperate, like a man drowning. Despite himself, Madara returned in kind. 

They stayed there for a while, lazily making out, before Madara finally pulled back, lips red and slightly swollen. “Why?” he whispered, dark eyes catching Hashirama’s and holding them. “Why me?” 

“Who else could it ever be?” Hashirama mumbled, leaning forwards to connect their lips again. “You are brave and smart and beautiful. You’ve grown on me since we were kids. You shared my dream, my vision. How could I not?” 

“Even when I turned on it?” 

“Especially then.” Hashirama pulled back a little. “You said the village no longer falls in line with your beliefs, your values and morals. If that is true, then clearly we need to look into it.” 

“Why?” 

Hashirama smiled. “The fact that you fought because of it shows that you care,” he breathed, moving down to nuzzle his jaw. “The fact that these past few weeks you’ve stayed at my side shows you care more than you want to admit. You have so many chances to leave, so many to kill me in my sleep. You didn’t. So now let me ask you something. Why didn’t you?” 

“Stupid Senju,” Madara snorted, looking away. “You know why,” he added, after a moment of silence. 

“I want to hear you say it,” Hashirama insisted, resting his weight on him when the Uchiha started squirming. “I want you to know that you can let down all your walls and safeguards around me, Madara. You can be vulnerable with me. You were as a fox. Why is it so hard to as a man?

“It’s different then!” Madara complained. “It’s easier. It’s more instinctive. But now…” He stopped, and fidgeted anxiously. 

“Let go of your pride, Madara,” Hashirama coaxed. “For me. Just this once.” 

Madara stared up at him, biting his lip. Inexplicably, he thought back to the rollercoaster of the past few weeks he had had. Hashirama had been nothing but supportive. Just like he knew he would be. Uchiha were creatures of heart, of love. Once they found something to pour all of that onto, they’d never let go. And Madara had already sunk his claws in. And he suspected the other man had done the same to him. 

“I love you,” he said finally, shakily. Hashirama’s smile put a shadow on the sun, and he swooped down, kissing Madara like he was his lifeline. Madara finally reached up for him, threading his fingers in his hair, and holding him close. For the first time in a long while, his restless heart felt calm. 

~*~*~

After a few hours, of lazy kisses and quiet, sometimes reluctant confessions, they finally left the house, to wander the streets. Calcia, Akiro, and Nyx came with them, Akiro happily snuggled up in Madara’s arms. Hashirama very much wanted to hold the Uchiha’s hand, but he thought that might take a little while yet. Even if he did everything with all his heart, he was still flighty, and Hashirama would have to be patient. 

They met Tobirama after a few minutes. The white haired Senju took one look at them, snorted, and raised his chin. “Sage, finally,” he grumbled. His red eyes took in the marks on Madara’s neck; he had refused to let Hashirama heal him. “Gross. There is no need to flaunt your….activities so blatantly.” 

“Jealous, demon?” Madara purred, rearranging Akiro. Tobirama’s eye twitched. 

“Not in a million years.” He knelt down to pet Nyx, who wiggled in delight. His hard expression softened, just a little. “Regardless. I’m….” He paused, searching for the right word. “Well, not exactly happy. Perhaps relieved…. Anyway, congratulations for finally sorting your shit.” He pat Nyx once more, then made his escape before Hashirama could devolve into an overly emotional bount. 

Hashirama sniffed. “He’s such a good brother,” he wailed, throwing an arm around Madara’s shoulders. “I knew he’d be happy for us!” 

“He just said he wasn’t happy,” Madara pointed out dryly, removing himself from Hashirama’s arm and continuing on their way. The Hokage smiled, happily trotting after him. They made it to the Uchiha district just a little after noon. 

A group of children ran out to greet them, and Nyx and Calica happily let them coo over them. Akiro took one look at them, and burrowed further into Madara’s arms. “Good morning, Madara-sama, Hokage-sama!” an adult called out. 

“Good morning!” Hashirama beamed. Madara just nodded quietly; a definite improvement from a few months ago. 

“No fox form this time, Madara-sama?” another parent asked, pausing beside them and watching her son tug on Nyx’s ear. 

“Afraid not, Noya-san,” Madara said, with a somewhat reluctant smile. “I control it now.” Noya gave him a startled look. 

“Really?” she asked, intrigued. “You can change whenever you like?” Madara nodded, and she raised an eyebrow. 

“Prove it!” He raised an eyebrow back at her. A few months ago, no one would have dared to playfully order him to do anything. They had all relaxed so much around him. It was almost weird. 

“Alright,” he agreed, because he was in an agreeable mood today. He handed Akiro to Hashirama, stroking her ears fondly, and shifted down into his fox form. He stared at Noya challengingly, and she ruffled his ears. 

“Impressive, Madara-sama,” she said, with a slowly growing grin. 

“Dara-chan!” one of the children shrieked, and suddenly he was swamped, all but disappearing under the children enthusiastically leaping at him. 

“Very clever, Noya-san,” he grumbled, and Noya laughed. 

“I couldn’t resist.” With her help, Madara extracted himself from the pile, shifting back quickly before they could pounce on him again. 

“You have a twisted sense of humor, “ he sniffed, “taking pleasure in such things.” 

“It’s cute, Madara-chan,” she said. She grinned at the look that crossed his face, scooping her child up and waving. “See you later, Madara-chan! Hokage-sama!” 

“The nerve,” Madara complained, taking Akiro back. Hashirama laughed. 

“It suits you, Madara-ch-”

“Don’t even,” Madara threatened, jabbing him in the chest. Hashirama smirked. 

“What can you do to stop me?” he teased, leaning closer to brush his lips against his temple. Madara’s dark eyes gleamed. 

“I won’t sleep with you for a month.” 

Hashirama sputtered. “What? Noooo, Madara you can’t! You promised we could do that one thing tonight that-” 

“So don’t call me that,” Madara said, shrugging. “It’s really not that hard, Hokage-sama.” The low purr his voice dropped into abruptly had Hashirama thinking of a much different fantasy; one that took place in his office at the Hokage tower, putting his desk to much better use. The sudden thought made his mouth dry, and he absentmindedly licked his lips. 

“Get your head out of the gutter!” Madara scolded. “There are children here!” 

“It’s your fault!” he hissed back. “Stop saying things like that!” 

“Like what?” His voice dropped again, low and rumbling, and Hashirama clenched his fists, resisting the urge to grab him and haul him into some forgotten corner. As if he knew what he was thinking, Madara gave him a look, turning and sauntering further into the Uchiha district. Swallowing thickly, Hashirama followed. 

Despite his threat, Madara conceded, and let him do that thing he’d always wanted to do that night. 

~*~*~

It wasn’t much longer that he got to fulfill another one of his desires. 

A week or so after Madara’s new found control over his form, the Kage from Kumogakure, the Village Hidden by Clouds, came to negotiate a proposed alliance. As founders of Konoha, Madara and Hashirama met him in the Hokage’s office. Hashirama sat at his desk, and Madara sat beside it, all 9 tails waving lazily behind him. The Kage of Kumogakure looked strangely familiar, even though Madara had never seen him. 

The man looked a little surprised to see him, and had at first reached out to pet him. Madara growled, baring his teeth, and Hashirama laughed sheepishly. “He doesn’t like strangers touching him,” he apologized, and the Kage retracted his hand. 

“No matter,” he said, taking his seat across the table. “I had heard that your pet went missing a while ago. I am glad he was returned to you safely.” 

“As am I,” Hashirama agreed. It had taken a lot of work to convince Madara to come to this meeting, and Madara only agreed if he could be a fox and not have to talk. Hashirama had agreed reluctantly, and Madara fell back into his old act of being the Hokage’s pet. 

Madara stared at the man, starting to grow irritated by the nagging suspicion that he knew this man. From somewhere. But where? 

He didn’t pay any attention to whatever the two Kage were talking about, tails swishing faster in irritation. It hit him like a bag of bricks when the man shifted in his seat, revealing a necklace with a pendant of a cloud on it. Aha!

Without thinking, he leaped to his feet, and shifted. “You were there!” he accused, marching towards the man. He turned comically pale and startled at the sight of the fox turning into a man, and then having said man stomp towards him, black eyes turning red with the Sharingan. “You tried to BUY me!” 

“U-Uchiha Madara?!” the man squeaked, and Madara slammed his hands on the armrests of his chair, caging him in. He was so very, very tempted to put the man under a mind breaking genjutsu, but he held off. For now. 

“What kind of Kage disgraces himself by attending an illegal pet trade?” he snapped. “You do know that such things are ILLEGAL, don’t you? What could a man of your status and position possibly be doing somewhere like that?” 

The man looked floored. “You...You are the Hokage’s pet?” he gasped, and Madara sneered. 

“No,” he growled. “I am his partner. And you-”

“Madara, please,” Hashirama broke in, standing slowly. “As much as I enjoy seeing you intimidate a man twice your size almost to the point of wetting himself, we do have important things to discuss.” Madara sneered at the man, stepping back back and perching himself on the corner of Hashirama’s desk, crossing one knee over the other. 

He didn’t move for the entirety of the meeting, Sharingan eyes locked on the Kage, enjoying how a supposedly powerful man was so anxious and fretting around him. When he finally left, Madara allowed a smirk to cross over his face. 

“That went well!” he said cheerfully. The Kage had given in to all of Konoha’s requests, and then some. Madara suspected it might have been because of him. He heard Hashirama sigh, and move some papers. He was too busy preening to notice what he was doing, until the Senju’s hands grabbed him, yanking him from the corner of the desk to the center and turning him around. 

Hashirama kissed him hard before he could voice a complaint at the rough handling, hands digging into his spiky black hair. He tugged hard, pulling back and immediately swooping back in to bite the slope of his neck where it met his shoulder. 

“Ow! Hashirama!” Madara shoved at him, but Hashirama was firm, pulling Madara closer and forcing his knees apart to step in between them. It was only after his bite was stinging and bright red that Hashirama pulled back. His pupils were blown huge. 

“Do you have any idea,” he rasped, slowly, barely controlled, “just how hot that was?” 

“Apparently very,” Madara said, eyes flicking down and taking in just how interested Hashirama was. “Do you like seeing me put men in their place?” he teased, moving one leg to brush his foot against the front of Hashirama’s pants, smirking widely at what he felt. 

“Yessss,” Hashirama hissed, hands dropping to his hips and yanking him forward roughly, until their hips met. Madara groaned softly, feeling himself growing interested as Hashirama’s arousal pressed against him. 

“You need to get better control of yourself,” he breathed, as Hashirama thrust forward, bringing with it a spark of pleasure. “And we can’t do this here, there’s-”

“We have wards,” Hashirama cut in, silencing him with a bruising kiss. “Silencing and privacy. Let me have this.” He thrust forward again, and Madara choked. 

“Is this another one of your little fantasies?” he gasped, eyes widening in realization. “Hashirama Senju, that is scandalous!” 

“I don’t hear you complaining,” Hashirama said. “Like I said before, dearest. There’s a lot of things I want to do to you. I’m just working my way down the list.” 

“You’re ridiculous,” Madara grumbled, moving a little to help Hashirama as he started tugging at his clothes. He cursed how modest the Uchiha dressed; it was a hassle. 

“Mhm,” Hashirama hummed. “Think you’re still good from this morning?” 

“Yes, now get on with it!” Madara snapped. Hashirama slid a hand up his inner thigh, slipping down and sliding a finger in. He felt around a bit, delighted at Madara’s little gasps. 

“Yeah, I think you’re right,” he agreed, pulling back, but only after twisting his fingers the way Madara liked. The Uchiha jolted, and his nails dug into the back of Hashirama’s neck. 

“Senju! I swear, if you don’t just get on with-”

Hashirama stopped his complaint by sliding into him, quick and rough, and Madara whimpered, legs automatically hitching around Hashirama’s waist. “You were saying?” he teased, delighting in the way Madara’s head thunked back against the desk. 

“I hate you,” he groaned, and Hashirama laughed. 

“No, you don’t.” He adjusted his grip, surely leaving finger print shaped bruises on his hips and started moving, thrusting in and out, hard and fast the way Madara liked it. One day, he fully intended on having his way with him; slow and torturous, dragging out for hours. He’d look so pretty, bound with soft rope. Hashirama was already looking for something red. Maybe a blindfold too. Definitely a gag, to keep him from voicing his snarking comments. The image he conjured up in his brain had his hips stuttering, and he thrust hard and stayed there, pulling Madara back against him and grinding. 

Madara bit down on his forearm, muffling a cry. “H-Hashi,” he whined, desperate. Hashirama grinned, pleased with how receptive his lover was. 

“Ma-da-ra,” he sang, leaning over and liking a stripe up his neck. 

“Come on,” he panted, shifting his hips to encourage him to move. 

“What’s the magic word?” Hashirama purred, and Madara leaned back, lifting his chin haughtily. 

“You have to be a level 10 lover to make me beg,” he drawled. Sage, that should not have sent so much intense heat shooting down. He rocked forward, grinding into him again, and Madara’s breath stuttered. 

“What level am I at right now?” he asked, breathlessly. Madara’s dark eyes glistened with mischief. 

“A 3, maybe. You’ve got a lot of work ahead of you.” 

“I’ll work on it,” he promised, pulling back and thrusting again, hard and fast, over and over. Madara’s legs clamped hard on his waist, and his heels, still booted, dug into the small of his clothed back. 

“Maybe I’ll promote you to a level 4,” he said, trying hard to steady his breathing. “Depending on how well you can...please me.” 

Hashirama grinned against his neck, taking the skin between his teeth and working on making a mark. He devoted the next hour to chasing his promotion. 

When they had finished, Madara grudgingly gave it to him, fair skin flushed and sweaty, and walking with a noticeable limp. 

~*~*~*~

For all of Hashirama’s deepest and darkest desires, there was one he was loath to admit. Unfortunately for him, Madara was all too aware of him. He was already planning his revenge, gleefully imagining the look on Hashirama’s face. He was going to be the death of that man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like that was too much.   
> Sooo, do I write what Madara has planned? I'm a little undecided. Please advise :D


	8. Second Backfire (Madara's a tease)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Madara tries. Hashirama gets what he wants.   
> This is gross. Why did I even. Ya'll might wanna skip to the next chapter...  
> Very slight TobiMito added in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also wow, 8 chapters. Was not expecting to go this long.

~*~*~

It took a few weeks after the Hokage Tower for Madara to finally master control of his shifting enough to do what he wanted. Sweeping his wild mane into a low ponytail, several stands loose to frame his face, he set himself up in the kitchen, closing his eyes. He’d been practicing for weeks, so it only took him a second or two. His scalp itched as his fox ears sprouted out of his scalp, sticking up from his mess of spiky hair. A less uncomfortable itch at the base of his spine signaled the coming in of his tails. 

He had specifically tailored his outfit just for this. A discrete slit in the back let all 9 of his tails slide out. He pulled at the dark clothing for a while, until it was adjusted just right. Per usual, the tails started swaying and flicking on their own. 

Ah, that felt better. Humming softly under his breath, he set about boiling some tea. A familiar creak sounded; the second last stair, signalling someone was coming. Perfect. He looked over his shoulder just as Hashirama came around the corner and stopped dead in his tracks, eyes growing comically wide. 

“Good morning, Hashirama,” he drawled, turning and lifting his cup of tea to his lips. 

“Madara,” Hashirama rasped, eyes trailing over him, moving from his ears, to his tails, to his hair and face, and all over again. “You look, uh…” 

“Close your mouth, Hashirama,” Madara said, curling his fingers around his mug and stepping delicately past him. As he did so, the longest and bushiest of his tails flicked up under Hashirama’s jaw, closing his mouth for him. 

“I’ll see you in the tower,” he said over his shoulder. He purposefully closed one on his eyes in a playful wink, and Hashirama stared at him wordlessly. Raising a claw tipped hand to his mouth, Madara hid his smile, and sauntered out the door. 

~*~*~

Stupid stinking fox. 

Hashirama stayed frozen in the kitchen for a long while, hardly able to believe what he had seen. He had pinched himself several times, but nope, he wasn’t dreaming. It had really been Madara standing in the kitchen, 9 tails and fluffy ears and all. And Sage, where did he get that outfit? It was different than his usual. Still high collared as usual, but the front dipped down to just below his collarbones, and fit much more snugly than anything else the Uchiha had ever worn. Lastly, it had a slit; on the right side, all the way up to the thigh. And the pants he wore underneath had a two inch wide stripe of black lace on the sides, revealing the pale skin beneath. 

But Sages, the tails and ears. 

He swallowed thickly, and numbly started making himself some tea to dry his mouth. The more he thought about it, the more he was certain Madara was trying to mess with him. He had refused to sleep with him all week, shifting into his fox when Hashirama grew persistent and going off to run Calica, Akiro, and Nyx, leaving Hashirama hot and frustrated. 

His little wink and tail movement wasn’t exactly subtle. And he was sure he hadn’t been imagining the added sway to his walk as he strode out the door. Oh, sages. He had meetings with Madara and some others all day. Surely, Madara wasn’t going to…. 

Oh, today was gonna be a long day. 

~*~*~

The look Tobirama was sending him could have frozen a fire. They had been in their first meeting for only an hour, and already Hashirama wanted to rip his hair out. Madara sat directly opposite of him, all 9 tails swishing lazily, ears flicked back to signify his boredom. His chin was propped up on one hand, and the black claws of his other tapped quietly on the table. 

He was well aware of Hashirama staring. He had caught his eye a few times, smirking and half closing his eyes, which had obviously become more slanted and fox-like since this morning. Everytime he looked back at him, Hashirama had felt a fresh sure of heat crash through him. 

Stupid fox. 

Tobirama was clearly picking up on his distraction. He glared at him for the duration of the entire meeting, red eyes sharp. Stupid fox. Not only was he utterly incapable of focussing on the meeting, but his brother would be mad at him for the rest of the day. 

~*~*~

“He’s ridiculous,” Tobirama hissed to Mito, after storming from the room when the meeting was over. The Uzumaki princess gave him a patiently amused look, and he threw up his hands. “They both are! What is Madara thinking, walking around like that?! Hardly anyone could pay attention!” 

“Oh, please,” Mito snorted. “This is the most entertained I’ve been for a while. Besides, I’ve been working with Madara on this for weeks, I’m not about to let all our hard work go to waste. Madara wants to mess with Hashirama, and it’s utterly hilarious.”

“You’re in on this?” Tobirama said incredulously, and Mito laughed. 

“Of course! Do you really think Madara can figure out how to in between his two forms by himself?”. 

She had a point. Tobirama leaned back, and frowned at her. “You’re worse than that fox,” he said. 

“Of course I am,” she said slyly. “I’m a vixen.” 

~*~*~

The next meeting was so much worse. Madara sat right beside him, and there was no way his tails were doing that on their own. Two of them were wrapped around the leg closest to him, and another around the wrist of the arm resting on his leg. Some of the others flicked behind Madara still, and another tickled up and down his side, even managing to poke into the fold of his Hokage robe. 

‘I’m going to kill him,’ he thought fiercely. It was getting very...hard...to ignore just how worked up he was getting. 

Madara, of course, was clearly enjoying himself. Hashirama could feel his dark eyes slide to him every once in a while, amused at his struggles. When a brief break was called, and a few of the meeting attendees left the room, Madara leaned into him, putting one clawed hand on his thigh, dangerously high. 

“You alright, Lord First?” he drawled, flicking his ears. Hashirama stared at them, and had to fist his robes to resist the urge to pet them. 

“Fine,” he hissed through clenched teeth. 

“Really? You’re looking a little flushed.” He reached up, putting a hand on his forehead. “And you’re also feeling quite….warm.” 

He trailed his hand down Hashirama’s cheek, and at the same time brushed a tail directly where Hashirama was trying not to think. The brief pressure made Hashirama jolt, and just as quickly, it was gone. 

“Madara,” he hissed. “Stop. IT.” 

“Stop what, Lord First?” Madara asked innocently, turning back to the speaker as he walked in, and giving him his full attention. 

Hashirama was going to die. 

~*~*~

Correction, NOW he was going to die. Another meeting, another two hours of absolute torture. He was going mad. Madara sat across from him again. The table was long, and narrow. He was doing his best to focus. He really was. 

A boot between his knees had him giving up very quickly. He glared furiously at Madara, who ignored him, tapping his fingers against his cheek, gazing at the man talking bordly. But he quite clearly wasn’t ignoring him. His foot slid up, nudging closer and closer to where Hashirama both did and didn’t want him to go. 

Finally, it reached its destination, and pressed down firmly. Hashirama brought a hand up to his mouth to smoulder an undignified squeak, of both arousal and surprise. He glared at Madara, and he finally looked back at him, giving him a sultry wink. 

~*~*~*~

Before he could corner him, Madaral made his escape back to the Uchiha district. The hour was late, but they still had one more meeting in just about an hour. Plenty of time to handle his little problem. He locked himself in an empty bathroom, and proceeded to do just that. 

When he was done, he tried sneaking discreetly to his office. A certain Uzumaki stood in his way. She lifted his chin and smirked at him. “Having a rough day?” 

“Mito,” he greeted, trying not to look embarrassed. 

“How’s Madara?” she asked, following him as he sidestepped her to flee to his office. 

“Insufferable,” he groaned, and Mito laughed. 

“Likely.” 

“I’m going to kill him.” 

“Not in public.” 

“He’s gonna pay for this.” 

“Also not in public, please.” 

He looked up and frowned at her. Mito laughed. “Enjoy yourself!” she called, sauntering away, most likely to hunt down Tobirama. They had been hanging out a lot lately. 

Sage, was he ever gonna enjoy this. 

~*~*~*~

They didn’t get out of the last meeting until half past 8. Despite taking the edge off earlier, he was quite quickly having a hard time again. Madara somehow looked even more appealing in the late hour. But Hashirama was handling himself this time. 

He wasn’t a Clan Head and the leader of Konoha for nothing. It didn’t take a lot to play it up. He very much wanted to pounce on Madara the instant everyone was gone, but he restrained himself. He gave in to the urge to stare at Madara in a heated way, and the Uchiha met his gaze with just as much heat. 

They went back to Hashirama’s house, and Hashirama actively listened to what Madara was saying, and replied in turn, trying to convince Madara he was keeping his cool. Madara was musing about something a clan elder had said in their last meeting when Hashirama entered the building, and all of his resolve snapped. 

~*~*~

As Madara stopped, turning to close the door, Hashirama lunged. He grabbed the Uchiha’s wrists, spinning him around, and slamming him face first against the door. Adjusting his hold, he twisted Madara’s wrists behind his back, and pinned them between his shoulder blades. He moulded himself against Madara’s back, pressing him firmly against the wood, and trying not to shudder when he felt Madara’s tail flick around his legs. 

“Did you enjoy yourself today, Madara?” he growled in his ear, sweeping his hair aside to bite down on the nape of his neck. Madara inhaled shakily, but tossed a smirk back at him over his shoulder. 

“I did, actually. You lasted so much longer than I expected you to.” 

“I took the edge off earlier,” he purred, pausing to nip at the shell of his ear. 

“Oh. Well, that wasn’t the plan, idiot Senju.” 

“What was the plan then, mhm?” He pressed more weight against Madara, smushing him against the wall so firmly he could barely squirm. 

“I figured you would try to convince me to have another rendezvous in your office,” he breathed, tugging a little, testing his hold on his wrists. Hashirama held them harder. “And then I was going to leave you high and dry.” 

“Must you torture me so much?” Hashirama grumbled. 

“Oh, it brings me such pleasure to do so.” 

“Pleasure’s exactly what you’re gonna get,” he promised. “You just aren’t going to get it your way, fox.” 

Still holding Madara’s wrists firmly between his shoulder blades, Hashirama wrapped his other arm around his waist, jerking his hips back and pressing his arousal against him. 

“Oh, still excited aren’t we?” Madara rumbled lowly, pushing back. Hashirama snickered. 

“You have no idea.” He pushed against Madara, grinding against him. Madara playfully curled his tails around him, wrapping them around his upper legs, encouraging him to move. “Stop that,” Hashirama said, running a hand down his spine and to the base of his tails. Madara gave a full body shudder at that. “Sensitive, are we?” he teased, and Madara cursed quietly. “Seems I wasn’t the only one affected today, was I?” 

“S-shut up, Senju,” Madara growled. Hashirama laughed, forcing him closer, pushing him against the wall and pulling him into him. He grinded low and steady, revelling in Madara’s squirms and quiet sounds. 

Just as the friction was becoming a little too much, Hashirama pulled back, spinning Madara around, catching his wrists in his hands and kissing him. “How much longer until I’m a level 10 lover?” he asked, nipping his upper lip. 

“Not even close,” he snorted, and Hashirama smiled at the challenge in his voice. 

“I’ll change that tonight.” 

“You’re still at level 4, Senju. You’ve got a lot of work to do.” 

“Oh, my dear. Don’t you worry your pretty head. I’ll get there.” He let go of his wrists, hands going up to his hair, fondling his ears. At the same time, he resumed his assault on Madara’s lips, steadily walking him back, away from the door, and starting to guide him to his room. 

Madara didn’t seem to notice until the back of his knees hit the mattress and he was abruptly sat down. Hashirama maneuvered him to the middle of the bed, his hands steadily removing his clothes. His tails flicked around him, caressing Hashirama all over. It was a little distracting, but Hashirama quite enjoyed it. He pulled gently at his ears, and Madara purred quietly. 

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he muttered, nuzzling under his jaw and enthusiastically marking him. 

“I actually do,” Madara said, gazing at him with half lidded eyes. Hashirama felt a wave of fondness for him wash over, and he leaned back, staring down at him. 

“I love you,” he said. Madara’s playful gaze softened. 

“I know.” Hashirama leaned in to kiss him again, and Madara’s arms looped around his neck, pulling him closer. His tails brushed Hashirama’s sides, and he used one hand to toy with them. The other reached discreetly under the pillow. 

He let go of his tails, reaching for his wrists instead. Then, swiftly and smoothly, he bound his wrists with a piece of red silk, and secured them to the headboard. 

“Hashirama?” Madara questioned, eyes opening to stare up at the rope around his wrist. 

“Yes, Madara?” Hashirama asked, drawing another piece of silk out. Madara eyed it warily. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Nothing important,” he said with a grin. Then he leaned down, and shoved the silk into his mouth, tying it firmly behind his head. Madara’s eyes grew wide and outraged, and he lifted one leg to kick him. Hashirama firmly pushed it down. 

“You had your fun earlier,” Hashirama said. “Now it’s my turn.” Madara wiggled, complaining something that the gag muffled. Hashirama leaned back to admire his work. He was right. Red looked great on him, Especially when he couldn’t talk. 

“This is a good look on you,” he said gleefully, quite enjoying the way that Madara glared at him and squirmed. “We should try this more often.” Madara grumbled something that sounded rather like a curse. “Language, Mads,” Hashirama scolded. He leaned down, pressing his lips between his eyebrows. 

One of his tails slipped deftly between his legs, pressing up firmly, and Hashirama grunted, squeezing his eyes shut and willing himself not to react. Judging from the way Madara grinned, just a little, he failed at that. 

“Stop looking so smug. Soon you’ll be begging me for mercy. Not that you’ll be able to actually say anything.” He tugged at Madara’s knees, situating himself between them. “Actually, I’ve wanted to do this for ages. Thanks for giving me an excuse to.” 

Madara grumbled something, ears flicking with irritation. Hashirama beamed down at him innocently, reaching under the pillow for a now familiar bottle. He uncapped the lid, thoroughly covering his fingers. Madara watched him, all dark eyes and curious ears. 

Hashirama cut right to, bringing his fingers down and slipping the first one in. Madara whimpered, eyes closing, pushing into him eagerly. Hashirama pushed his hips down with one hand on his lower belly, holding him down firmly. 

“Ohh, no you don’t. You better get comfortable, Maddy. You’ll be here for a while.” He grinned darkly, revelling in the way Madara’s eyes widened, and crocked his fingers just so. He rearranged himself a bit, settling in himself. After all, they were gonna be here for a while. A good long, enjoyable couple of hours. 

~*~*~*

True to his word, Hashirama kept at it for hours. Madara was a whimpering mess soon into it, and still he didn’t let up. He was quite enjoying Madara letting him do as he pleased. Though he didn’t think he was in his right mind now to even try and fight him. He was sweaty, panting, and flushed, hair and tails splayed all around him. His gag was wet with saliva, and his dark eyes glassy and unfocussed. 

Lounging between his legs, Hashirama lazily moved his fingers in and out, bending and scissoring them at random. Madara was shaking like a leaf by now, but Hashirama was always sure to stop before Madara went over the edge, keeping him just at the tipping point, but always slowing before it could happen. His neck, chest, collarbones, and stomach was littered in hickies, like some kind of crazy masterpiece. Hashirama was quite proud of it. 

“How you doing, Mads?” he asked playfully. Madara groaned, narrowing his glassy eyes at him, and Hashirama smiled. “Good? Good. Think you can hold on for a bit longer? It’s been…” He paused to look over at the clock. Oh wow. “It’s a quarter to 1,” Hashirama said, surprised. “We’ve been at this for almost 4 hours. Quite impressive, Ma-da-ra.” 

He was impressed with himself too. It took an astronomical amount of self control not to let himself just say screw it and take him. He made such an appealing image. If only he had the Sharingan, so he could memorize this forever. If only there was some kind of auditory jutsu he could get his hands on. He’d love to remember the sounds Madara made, muffled as they were. He was painfully hard, but he stubbornly held off. 

“Whaddya think, Mads?” he asked, swirling his fingers and making Madara whine desperately. “Think you can go for another few hours?” 

He grinned at the desperate keen Madara made in reply. 

~*~*~*~

It was almost 3 in the morning when Hashirama finally had mercy. Madara looked ruined, teary eyed and panting and whimpering. He pulled his fingers out, leaning up to gently tug away the gag. 

“Hashi,” he whined desperately. His voice was cracked and broken, breathy with need. 

“How you holding up?” Hashirama asked, fondly brushing his damp hair from his sweaty face, reaching down to rub his ears. 

“Hashi, please,” he breathed. “I can’t take this anymore.” 

“You’ve done so well, Mads,” Hashirama praised. Truth be told, he didn’t think he’d last long at all anymore. He leaned down, kissing him softly. “What’s the magic word, again?” 

Madara’s eyes blearily met his. “Please,” he whispered. “Please, Hashi.” He tugged futilely at his bonds. His wrists were red and raw from his squirms and pulls. 

“Okay, Mads,” Hashirama soothed. “Give me a moment.” He reached up, unbinding his hands. He didn’t move them, and Hashirama slowly guided them down, well aware that they probably had little feeling. 

“Hashiiiiii,” he whined, and Hashirama placed a finger on his lip. 

“You’re okay,” he soothed. He reslotted himself between his legs, and finally, finally slipped in. Madara choked on a sob, his entire body shuddering desperately. “There we go,” Hashirama drawled, pulling back, and thrusting back in hard. 

Madara’s quiet little wail had him losing whatever restraint he had left. He ran his fingers along his cheek, then firmly took hold of his hips, thrusting hard. A few of Madara’s tails curled up wearily, wrapping around the backs of his legs, urging him on. 

Neither of them lasted long. It only took a few minutes to reach their satisfying end. Madara went first, with a howl and a frantic thrashing of all his limbs. Hashirama followed right behind, collapsing over him, breathing hard. 

Madara mumbled something quietly, and Hashirama lifted his head exhaustedly to blink at him. “What?” 

He opened his reddened dark eyes, taking a moment to focus. “Promoted,” he rasped. He sounded horrible, but to Hashirama it was perfect. 

“Oh? Promoted to what?” 

“Level 10,” Madara whined pathetically, no longer having the energy to keep his eyes open. Hashirama beamed, hauling himself up and kissing him sloppily. Madara whined in protest, but made no effort to get away. Probably too tired. 

Hashirama slowly moved them, flopping onto his back and hauling Madara against his side. His ears and tails and hair were damp with sweat, and he looked more exhausted than he ever had before. “I’ll get you some water,” he whispered. Madara just hummed quietly. Fondly, Hashirama pecked his temple, wobbling out of bed and hurriedly donning a sleep yukata. 

Quietly, he made his way to the kitchen. And nearly had a heart attack when he got there. Mito was sitting at the table, one hand curled around a cup of tea. She smirked at him. “Have a good night? It sure sounded like it.” 

“What are you doing here?” he blurted, not quite sure of what he was seeing. 

“Me? Oh, I’m just here to see your darling little brother.” 

Hashirama stared at her, finally taking in that her hair and clothes were not as pristine as usual. Now that he was looking closer, he could finally see a few faint marks on her neck. Realization hit him. 

“You corrupted my baby brother!” he squawked, and Mito smirked. 

“Oh, believe me, Hashirama. Tobi needed no corrupting. He’s glorious.” 

“He’s my baby brother!” 

“And he’s also a fantastic lover. And from what we could hear, so might be Ma-da-raaaa. Don’t you have a little fox to look after, Hashi?” 

“You were listening to us?!” 

“It was hard not to. Even gagged, your fox is vocal.” 

“Mito!”

“What? It’s true. Go take care of him, he’s probably passed out by now.” 

“We are going to talk about this,” he said firmly, and Mito just smiled. Silently, he grabbed some water, and hurried back to his room. Madara was curled up into a ball when he got back, ears flopping to the sides, sound asleep. 

Hashirama sat down beside him, gently shaking his shoulder. “Madara,” he whispered. “Wake up, love.” Madara just groaned, one of his tails lazily swatting at him. “Up, up,” Hashirama encouraged. “Have some water.” 

Groaning, he sat up, reaching for it. He downed it all in one go, shoved it back at him, and curled right back up. Hashirama smiled, setting the glass aside and gently maneuvering him to his chest. 

“You’re gonna pay for that,” Madara said sleepily. Hashirama chuckled. 

“Sure, Madara. Sure. Sleep well.” 

A quiet murmur was his only reply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will probably be Madara getting his revenge


	9. Mito is Queen (Fight me) (Also Madara's turn)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mito is the ringmaster. She pulls all the strings. She plays everyone like the cheap fiddles they are.

~*~*~

It was already afternoon when the door to Mito’s home burst open, and a certain Uchiha stormed into her living room. Or rather, wobbled. But he tried his best. 

Mito put down her tea, tucking her hands into her sleeves, and giving him an expectant look. He looked worn and tired, and Mito smirked. “Hey Madara. Have a good night?” 

He sent her such a spiteful look that she laughed, despite her earlier decision to remain utterly calm and collected when he came to rant. “Things just keep on backfiring on you, don’t they?” she continued, taking a sip of her tea again. “Whatever are we doing wrong…” 

“We had it planned out so perfectly,” Madara groaned, carefully sitting down opposite her. His discrete wince had her smirk turning into a full blown grin. 

“Well, this is Hashirama we’re talking about,” she pointed out. He huffed. 

“This is bullshit,” he complained, folding his arms on the table and setting his chin on them. His dark eyes flicked down, to the very faint bruises on her neck, and he arched an eyebrow. “Seems I wasn’t the only one who had a good night.” 

“Oh? So you did enjoy it then?” She very purposefully sidestepped his implication, and he wrinkled his nose at her. 

“Well, yeah. Sure I was a little mad at first. But it is Hashirama we’re talking about.” 

“It kinda sounded like you were dying. I was half tempted to come check up on you.” 

“Shut up, Uzumaki.” 

Mito’s grin turned dangerous. “Is that why you’re here? To insult me? Or have you come to ask for something again?”

He straightened, and tapped his fingers on her table, eyeing her suspiciously. “What’s your price?” 

“Make sure it's amusing enough to entertain me. And something challenging.” He grinned, sharp and foxlike. 

“Remember that first seal of yours? It locked my chakra out of reach? Think you can make me something strong enough to tie down a Senju?” 

Mito tilted her head, considering. “You know,” she mused slowly, “I think I can.” 

~*~*~

“It’s a little disturbing how interested you are in their sex lives,” Tobirama said, as soon as Madara was gone. He slipped around the corner, white hair ruffled and sticking up every which way. “And by that, I mean it’s very disturbing.” 

“Aw, come now Tobi,” she drawled, eyeing him. “Even you have to admit their attempts to one up each other are hilarious. Much more entertaining than the rest of this village’s gossip.” 

“So, you’re just going to keep helping him?” he asked, sitting where Madara just was. 

“Obviously. Besides, I’m curious to see who will break first.” 

Tobirama raised an eyebrow, thinking. “Madara,” they said at the same time, and Mito grinned. 

“You wanna help me?” 

He gave her a dry look. “You’re a terrible influence. I have much better things to do.” 

“Like 20 piles of paperwork?” 

“Yes.” 

Mito stared at him, raising a thin eyebrow. He stared back. 

“Fine. Where do we start?” 

~*~*~

Hashirama couldn’t help but feel proud as he watched Madara move so stiffly. He was unbearably cranky today, but even that couldn’t bring Hashirama down from his high. He went about his day with a bright and cheerful smile, replaying some of last night's events in his head over and over again. 

When he found Madara, standing in front of his counter and frowning out the window, he folded himself against his back, looping his arms around his waist. “Good evening,” he said, resting his chin on his shoulder. Madara didn’t reply, but he did lean back a little against him. That was enough for him. 

“You should have come in today,” he said cheerfully. “There was this Hyuuga who was throwing a fit because an Inuzuka let his dogs out and they ripped up her garden. Even after I promised to regrow everything, she tried to insist that the hounds be collared and muzzled at all times. Oh, boy, was the Inuzuka mad. You would have enjoyed their fight.” 

“You didn’t stop it?” Madara asked slowly, his voice still rough. Hashirama preened. 

“Nah. Too busy thinking about other things.” 

“Like what?” Madara frowned, and Hashirama grinned, tilting his head to plant a kiss on his neck.

“You,” he said lowly. “Last night. The way you looked and sounded when-”

“Hashirama!” Madara leaned away a bit, looking over his shoulder to frown. “We will not speak of that. It was humiliating.”

“Aw, Mads,” he chuckled, still not bothered by his crankiness. “You’re just mad because you enjoyed it.” 

“Well, obviously. Doesn’t mean we’re going to do it again.” 

“Pleaaaseee?” 

“NO.” 

“Why not?” 

“I already told you!” He shoved at Hashirama’s hands, intending to squirm free, but Hashirama tightened his hold. 

“Okay, okay,” he caved. “We won’t do that anytime soon. Just regular, normal, vanilla-” 

“Sage, stop talking, it’s embarrassing.” Hashirama looked up at the red darkening Madara’s face, and smirked, stepping a little closer. 

“It’s hilarious how shy you can be,” he drawled. “A couple words make you heat up, but some of the things that we do-” 

“Hashirama! I will actually set you on fire if you say one more thing!” Hashirama laughed. 

“Okay, sorry.” If he couldn’t say it, he could always show his appreciation. He nuzzled closer, his gentle kisses turning less innocent, and Madara stiffened. 

“No, Hashirama,” he said, firmly grasping his wrists when he started to slide his hands lower. Hashirama whined. 

“Whyyy?” 

“Why do you think, idiot?” Madara twisted free, turning to glower at his pouting lover. “I am tired and sore and not in the mood.” 

“What if I-”

“No.” With a disdainful look, he stalked out of the kitchen, whistling sharply. With a scattering of claws on the hardwood, his three foxes came bolting down from the Fox Room, making a mad dash for their human. Madara leaned down to pet them each, looking at Hashirama over his shoulder. 

“Don’t expect me back tonight. I’m staying with the clan.” 

Hashirama pouted. He hated it when Madara went and stayed at his own place in the Uchiha district, but he respected his need for peace and privacy. He wasn’t as affectionate and laid back as a human. When he was in his fox form he had no issues plopping down on top of him and curling up for a nap. But as a man, he didn’t often initiate touch. 

He watched Madara disappear down the streets with his foxes, and regretfully thought back to all the paperwork he had failed to get done. 

~*~*~

“Anija is far enough behind on his work,” Tobirama grumbled, crunching up a paper and tossing it aside. “If you’re so insistent on playing around with them, he’ll never catch up. The village will fall apart, and it’ll be your fault.” 

“Stop being such a downer,” Mito sighed. She frowned down at the outline of a seal, then promptly scrapped it. This was harder than she thought it’d be. There was a lot to take into consideration, with Hashirama’s monstrous strength. It was a challenge, for sure. “Hashirama and Madara are still in the early stages. Let them cool down a bit before getting all huffy.” 

Tobirama muttered under his breath. Something about Uchiha’s and brothers and long haired idiots. Mito smiled as she watched him work. For all his complaints, he was throwing himself into it. He could never resist a challenge, much less one like this. She traced the sharp red marks on his face with her eyes, wondering if it hurt when he got them. Probably. The face had a lot of nerves, after all. 

“Stop staring and get to work,” he huffed. “The sooner we get this done, the sooner they work off their issues, and the sooner things can calm down a bit. The amount of gossip circulating the village right now is unbelievable.” 

Mito snickered, grabbing another paper and working on a new version of the draft she had worked up. Ever since Madara had been able to shift back to his human form and still ended up spending so much time with Hashirama, people started to wonder. Guesses and whispers were confirmed when Hashirama boldly kissed Madara in public; messy and passionate and all. Madara had been too stunned to react right away. A good portion of the village had to be rebuilt after his fiery outburst when he got over his surprise. Ever since, Hashirama drastically limited his attempts to initiate PDA. 

But try as they might, even though they didn’t, it was pointless to try and hide the fact that there was evidently something between them. Madara refused to give it a name: partner, lover, boyfriend. He dismissed all of it. Mito suspected it may be because he feared tying himself down. Although he quite evidently loved Hashirama, he was far too used to guarding his emotions to flaunt their relationship in public. 

“If we get this to work, how do you think Hashirama will try to get payback?” she wondered, and Tobirama groaned, burying his fingers in his hair. 

“I do NOT want to think about that,” he said venomously. Mito ignored him. 

“He’ll definitely want to do something in return,” she said thoughtfully. Madara teased him with his half shifted self, Hashirama had made him pay for it. Now Madara wanted to throw it right back at him. Hashirama would be impressed, but there was no way he was going to let Madara one up him. He may seem gentle and forgiving, but that man had an incredibly high competitive streak. 

Mito grinned a little darker at the promise of all the coming dramatics. Those two getting together was the best thing to ever happen in Konoha. 

~*~*~

Sitting outside on the porch one night a few days later, Madara stared up at the stars. Calica, Akiro, and Nyx were all curled around him, warm under his heavy tails. The tails that weren’t resting over his foxes he curled around himself, tugging his paws under their fluff. It had been a week since he came to Mito with his request, and the Uzumaki worked tirelessly away at it, with an admirable amount of dedication. Or rather, as much dedication as she could have with Tobirama there. He had definitely caught them making out when he came to see Mito’s progress. He was infinitely grateful his Sharingan hadn’t been activated at the time. He would rather die than have that image burned into his mind. 

At his feet, Nyx yawned hugely, rearranging herself to curl up between his front paws. He tilted his head down at her, then leaned down to nudge his nose against her back. She opened her eyes lazily at him, and Madara purred softly. He’d never admit it to anyone, but he adored his foxes. They were used to him, both as a human and as a fox, and followed him everywhere he went. Sometimes they even slept with him, much to Hashirama’s irritation. He was almost more interested in cuddling with them than with him. 

Madara grinned sharply to himself, pleased with himself and with them. He had trained them to respond to a very specific tone of voice. Whenever he made it, they came rushing to him, searching for pets and cuddles and kisses. It was hilarious to do so when Hashirama was trying to get him to sleep with him. He always looked disappointed, but it only lasted for a little while. The Senju was also growing fond of the foxes, especially Nyx. More often than not, they ended up sleeping under the three of them on a pile over their backs or stomachs. 

The door swinging open caught his attention, and he looked up, just as Hashirama was coming out, holding two mugs. He pricked his ears, and Hashirama smiled, sitting down beside him. “Want some?” he asked, holding out a mug and looking up at the night sky. Madara sniffed at the tea, and considered. 

It didn’t take him long to shuffle around and shift back into a human. His foxes made little noises of protest, and he rearranged them carefully. Akiro curled up, as usual, on his lap. Calica wedged herself between his and Hashirama’s legs, and Nyx found a spot on some of the excess fabric of his mantle. 

He accepted the mug Hashirama held out, curling both hands around its pleasant warmth. “What’s on your mind?” Hashirama asked, lifting his mug to his lips and taking a sip. Madara hummed, doing the same. 

“Just thinking,” he said, closing his eyes and appreciating the taste. 

“‘Bout what?” Hashirama reached down, petting Calica along her spine. 

“The past, the present, and the future,” Madara replied, and Hashirama smiled. 

“And what is it about the past, the present, and the future that holds your fascination so much?”

“In the past, we have far different thoughts than in the present. And in the future, they’ll be different again, and you’ll look back to what is currently the present and think of it as the past. And you’ll wonder why you thought the things you did, and compare those thoughts to the ones you currently have.” 

“That’s deep,” Hashirama commented. “What kinds of things do you think of?” 

Madara tapped his nails quietly against his mug. “In the past, I thought I knew everything I needed to know. I read the tablet, I knew my path forward was to kill you and remake the village. But now, in the present, I look back and realize how wrong I was, and I wonder why I thought I knew everything. Why was I so certain I was right? Why was I so driven to take that course of action? Past me doesn’t make any sense to present me. And I’m sure future me will wonder about present me.” 

“Don’t dwell on the past, and don’t chase the future,” Hashirama replied. “Live in the present.” 

“Very wise,” Madara agreed, and Hashirama smiled. 

“Thanks. Thought of it myself.” Madara let himself smile, gently rubbing Akiro’s ears. 

“Hashirama,” he said slowly, and the Senju turned his gaze from the sky, meeting his eyes. The light of the moon sent shadows slanting over his face, and Madara lifted a gloved hand to trace the lines they cast. “I know I don’t say it enough,” he said, hesitantly. “But I do love you.” 

Hashirama’s eyes brightened, and his smile turned softer. Madara recognized it well by now. It was loving, adoring, and only ever directed at him. He reached out himself, running his fingers along his jaw, sweeping down his neck and around to gently card through his hair. 

“I love you, too,” he said. He leaned forward, gently pressing his lips against his. Madara responded in kind, hand against Hashirama’s cheek to steady himself. He felt Hashirama smile, and he surged closer, other hand joining the first. He pulled back, clicking his tongue twice. Disgruntled, Calica, Akiro, and Nyx reluctantly untangled themselves at his command, and made their way back inside. 

“Good training,” Hashirama said, moving in to kiss him again. 

“I know,” he muttered, sliding closer and revealing in his warmth. One of Hashirama’s hands coiled around his waist, and he shivered despite himself. He had been intending to make Hashirama wait until Mito’s little gift was ready. But it had been several days already…

Hashirama reached for him, drawing him closer until he was nearly in the Senju’s lap. Then he gathered them both, and stood up. Madara clung to him like a koala, pressing his face against his neck, gently peppering it with soft kisses. 

That night, they differed from their usual. It was all gentle words and touches, loving words and lazy kisses. It was, as Madara decided later that night, as Hashirama left a faint mark on his neck, not out of passion, but of love, a pleasant change. 

~*~*~

Mito came to him that next day, pulling him aside and holding up a small, square piece of paper, barely an inch by an inch. “Here it is,” she said proudly, holding it up to his eyes. He blinked, leaning back a little and squinting at the ink painted meticulously on the paper. 

“It’s tiny,” he said in surprise, and Mito snorted. 

“That doesn’t mean anything. It’s powerful.” She held it out, and he took it, frowning. 

“How does it work?” Mito smirked. 

“All you have to do is press it to bare skin. Preferably chest or belly, but it’ll work just as well anywhere else.” 

“And then?” 

“And then it’ll take effect and you can have all the fun you want. He won’t be able to fight you. Not that he’d want to.” 

“I won’t have him do something he won’t want to do.” 

“Oh trust me, Madara. He’ll want this.” 

Madara arched an eyebrow at her tone, and she grinned devilishly. “Alright, well. Thanks.” 

“Let me know how it goes!” she said, turning and strolling away with a cheerful wave. He watched her go, amused and a little bothered at her interest. He slipped the seal up his sleeve. Last night had been nice. He hadn’t even thought about his arching for revenge. But now that the means to do so had been presented to him, he felt that wild rush of excitement all over again. 

~*~*~

Madara hadn’t given any hint or shown any interest in anything since last night. As such, Hashirama was surprised when Madara showed up at his door just an hour or so before he’d started considering turning in for the night. He let him in with a raised eyebrow. 

“You know, you don’t have to knock,” he said, as Madara stepped inside and kicked off his boots. “You can just walk right in. I mean, you practically live here, so there’s no need for the-” 

Madara cut himself by grabbing his collar, yanking him down, and kissing him. Surprised, Hashirama let him control it, hands automatically lifting to rest on his hips. Madara pulled back just as suddenly, and Hashirama opened his eyes, which had naturally slid shut. Madara’s eyes were dark, and bright. 

“Bedroom,” he said, grabbing Hashirama’s wrist and all but dragging him to the destination in mind. Hashirama stumbled after him, bemused, but intrigued. Madara never initiated their intimate encounters. The fact that he was now was exciting. Maybe he was finally growing more comfortable, and was relaxed enough to show and ask for what he wanted. The thought made a happy smile cross his face, and he twisted his wrist to interlace his fingers with Madara’s. 

The Uchiha glanced back at him, and turned away just as quickly. When they got there, Madara yanked him in, slammed the door shut, and rounded on him. “Strip,” he ordered, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at him. If he were a lesser man, Hashirama would be intimidated. Instead, he felt a rush of heated excitement. 

“So demanding,” he teased, and Madara scowled. He obeyed his command, feeling his dark eyes watching his every move. He tossed his clothes aside, and Madara looked him over, up and down, arching an eyebrow when he saw just how interested Hashirama was becoming. He snorted. 

“So typical. Why am I not surprised, Senju.” He tilted his head, his gaze assessing. “On the bed,” he ordered, taking a few steps forward. Still grinning, curious as to Madara’s intentions, Hashirama obeyed, settling himself on his back. He had hardly leaned back fully when Madara perched on top of his belly, knees on either side of his chest, gloved hands fisting into his hair and yanking his face up to kiss him heatedly. 

Hashirama responded eagerly, one hand curling around his neck, and the other around his hip. “This is a little unfair, don’t you think?” he asked breathlessly, licking the corner of his mouth. “Shouldn’t you be taking some off?” 

“Be patient,” Madara scolded, nipping his upper lip. Hashirama shifted slightly, discreetly trying to get Madara to slide back a little and grant him some much desired friction. Madara clamped his knees against his sides, refusing to budge. Huffing, Hashirama contented himself to just kissing, shuddering at the feel of Madara’s fingers running over his chest, occasionally tweaking a nipple. 

He curled one hand further around his waist, and tightened his fingers on the back of his shoulders, fully intending to flip them around and start chasing what he wanted, growing tired of Madara dragging it out. Madara moved faster, sliding a tiny piece of paper out of his sleeve and slapping it on his chest. 

An icy wave of cold rushed through him, followed by a tingle of electricity and stimulating heat. Without his acting, his arms were pulled up, something cold and heavy wrapped around his wrists and his ankles. 

Shocked, Hashirama craned his neck, surprised to see heavy chains trapping his arms to the top and bottom corners of the bed. He tugged at them, but they held firm. Disbelieving, he stared up at Madara, who followed the lines of the chains with his eyes, his expression thoughtful. 

“Ah, so that’s what it does,” he mused, almost to himself. 

“What?” Hashirama blurted, and Madara’s eyes snapped back to his face, full of mischief and desire. 

“Don’t worry your pretty head,” he drawled, parroting Hashirama’s words back at him, and a stab of want and dread seized his gut. 

Oh. So that’s what this was about. 

“Must you?” he asked, breath hitching as Madara leaned down to bite down on a nipple. 

“Yes,” Madara drawled, nipping none too gently. His hands and mouth left marks and burning trails of heat on his chest and neck. Subtly, Madara slid back, inch by agonizingly slow inch, until he was pressing against his arousal. 

“It’s so easy to get you excited, Hashirama,” he mused, wiggling back and forth and giving him a few brushes of pleasant friction. 

“It’s hard not to when I have someone like you,” Hashirama muttered breathlessly. For an instant, Madara’s black eyes softened, warmed. Then they were right back to their dark, mischievous stare. 

“Obviously.” He readjusted himself, purposefully dragging over his arousal and perching on his thighs instead. He leaned down, reaching past Hashirama’s face, and took out the bottle hidden under the pillow. Uncapping it, he coated his fingers, then reached out and seized Hashirama mercilessly. 

Hashirama groaned, squeezing his eyes shut and arching his hips up into the touch. Madara chuckled softly at his reaction, stroking up and down, twisting his wrist every now and then, drawing his thumb over the top. 

“Madara,” he whined, and the Uchiha grinned down at him, dark and full of promise. 

“Do you need something, Hashirama?” he asked gleefully, obviously enjoying his desperation. He thrust his hips up into Madara’s hand in response, and he hummed, slowing down his hand, squeezing it hard and making Hashirama gasp. His other hand dragged down his chest, pinching his nipples, pressing down into his abs, pinching and circling and caressing. 

“Mads, please,” he breathed, giving Madara a pleading look that he always gave into. Madara stared back, and tilted his head to the side. 

“I suppose I could be a little nice,” he mused. He wiggled a little bit, shrugging out of his mantle. He wasn’t wearing much under it; just a long shirt with slits on the sides and a deep v-collar. He stroked him a few more times, then stood up on his knees. 

“Wait!” Hashirama yelped, and Madara paused, raising an eyebrow. 

“What?” 

“You need to get ready,” he murmured sheepishly, and Madara grinned, foxlike. 

“Oh, no need to worry,” he purred. “I prepared myself before coming.” Hashirama inhaled sharply, picturing it, and Madara’s grin widened. “Missing the sight? I bet you would have liked to see that.” 

“Yes,” he whispered, feeling a fresh wave of heat and desire. 

“Maybe next time I’ll have you watch, unable to speak or touch, as bound and held back as you are now,” Madara drawled, and Hashirama whined. It turned into a loud moan when Madara finally, finally sank down. How badly he wanted to seize his hips, and either yank him down harder or roll them over and do it himself. 

Madara didn’t move for a minute, head tilted back, eyes closed, and squirming just a little. “Come on, Madara,” he complained, lifting his hips and rocking up into him. Madara’s eyes flew open, and he dug his nails into his chest. 

“Stop that,” he growled. The chains on his ankles and wrists pulled a little harder, and it was impossible for him to brace his weight on his heels and thrust up like he wanted to. Madara looked pleased at his frustrated groan. He rolled forwards, and Hashirama moaned again. 

“You’re even louder when you’re not in control,” Madara commented, though he sounded a little breathless too. He lifted himself up, then sank back down forcefully. He bit his lip hard, eyebrows furrowing a little, pleasing himself on Hashirama, and taking his sweet time doing so. 

He exhaled shakily every time he went down, occasionally letting out a quiet little gasp or moan. It drove Hashirama mad with want. 

“Madara,” he whined, when the Uchiha went down hard and stayed there, rocking slightly, grinding. It may have felt amazing for him, but for Hashirama, while stimulating, it wasn’t enough. 

“Shut up,” Madara hissed, eyes screwing shut and nails digging into his chest so hard they drew blood. “Don’t make me gag you.” 

“Why didn’t you?” Hashirama asked, groaning when Madara lifted and dropped again. 

“I like hearing you,” he muttered, quietly, as if he was embarrassed by his admission. Hashirama smiled, but stopped abruptly when Madara started moving faster. He was close, Hashirama could tell. His eyebrow was doing that little movement it always did, and he was biting his lip hard enough to break it and wet it with a tiny drop of blood. 

His movements became a little faster, more desperate, chasing his release. Then all at once, he went ramrod still, and crashed hard. With a tired groan, he slumped over Hashirama’s chest, breathing hard, but still finding it in him to lazily nip and lick at his neck. 

“Come on, Mads,” he urged, uncomfortable with need. With a grunt, Madara sat up, then slid off, adjusting his shirt. 

“Good job, Hashi,” he said, patting his cheek and standing. Much to Hashirama’s disbelief, he wiped himself off, and redressed into his dark mantle. 

“What?” he blurted dumbly, and Madara smiled, all sharp and in control once more. 

“Hold on for just a moment, dear. I’ll be back.” With a grin and a wink, he tossed his hair over his shoulder, and left the room, leaving Hashirama bound, needy, and frustrated. 

~*~*~

He came back about 20 minutes later. Long enough for the absolute need to come to fade, but short enough that he hadn’t lost any interest. He breathed out a heavy sigh of relief when Madara curled his fingers around his arousal, stroking and squeezing, quickly bringing him back to the edge. Then, just as he was starting to still, so close, Madara squeezed him at the base, and let go, standing up again. 

“Good job, Hashi,” he said again, his grin dark and malicious. “I just remembered. I left the fire unattended. I’ll be back.” With that, he left again, and Hashirama groaned in despair. So that was his game. 

He flexed against the chains binding him, testing them for any give. They held firm, and he made a face, grudgingly impressed with its creator. Obviously, it must be Mito. It was powerful and strong, and enough to make things hard for him. 

He tested them again, rolling his hands within the cuffs. He had to hand it to him: Madara thought this out. 

~*~*~

He didn’t make him wait quite as long this time. Unlike before, where he had just sat beside him, Madara straddled him again, letting his hardness rub against him. He allowed Hashirama to wiggle and squirm and thrust shallowly, chasing after the friction he needed. Then he stood again, soothed out his mantle, and strode out with a grin. 

“See you in a minute, Hashirama.” With that, he disappeared, and the door swung shut behind him. Hashirama clenched his fists, trying to ignore the painful throbbing down below. Ohhh, Madara was going to be the death of him. 

~*~*~

The third time he came back, he sat down on his thighs, not close enough for them to touch. He trailed his fingers up his thighs, pausing at the junction where the hip met the leg and pressing his fingers in, kneading at the muscle there. 

“Enjoying yourself, Senju?” he asked, raising an eyebrow and glancing down at his obvious enjoyment. 

“Screw you, Uchiha,” he panted, closing his eyes. 

“Mhm. Maybe later. Or maybe not. Depends on how I feel. I’m not feeling particularly gracious today though. I wonder….” He trailed a hand down Hashirama’s chest, pausing the pinch both nipples, and then drawing one finger along his length. “Do you think you could convince me to have a grain of mercy?” 

Hashirama twisted his wrists a little, wrapping his fingers around the chains, and shifted to plant his feet. “Oh, I think I can,” he said confidently. Madara frowned, raising one eyebrow. 

“That’s a little arrogant of you, don’t you think? You’re not really in the position to have any say in the matter.” 

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Hashirama drawled. Madara’s frown deepened, and Hashirama took his chance. With a violent surge of chakra, he channeled Mokuton into the chains,having taken the time to identify their weakest points and focussing all his energy on getting his chakra past the block, and they fell away. Madara flinched back in surprise, but Hashirama was quick to seize him, roll them over, and pin him down. 

“You think you’re soooo smart, don’t you, Uchiha?” he growled, pinning his wrists with one hand and tugging at his clothes with the other. Madara’s eyes were comically wide, stunned. 

“H-how did you-”

“You’ll have to work much harder than that to keep me down for so long, Madara,” Hashirama said, shoving his knees apart and sliding between them. “That was very, very rude of you.” 

“It’s no worse than what you did!” 

“At least I stayed with you! I didn’t go back and forth like you did!” 

“Oh, and that’s so much worse?”

“Yes!” 

Madara scowled, ripping one hand free and throwing a weak punch. Hashirama caught it and pinned it back down with little effort. “You can’t get away that easily, Ma-da-ra,” he sang, leaning down to bite harshly at his neck. 

Madara gasped softly, tilting his head to allow him better access. “You weren’t supposed to get out,” he grumbled. “I was going to ease up soon.” 

“Not soon enough.” 

Just as he was about to shove his hand up his shirt, Madara twisted, bending impressively, and hooked his legs around his neck. “Nope, I wanted you to suffer, and you’re going to.” Hashirama had only a moment to be in awe of his flexibility before Madara twisted his hips, slamming him down on his side. 

Growling, he fumbled, reaching out for him. Just as his fingers brushed his clothes, Madara shifted into a fox, leaped out, and bolted out the half open window. 

Breathing hard, Hashirama stared at the window for a moment, hot and frustrated. Irritably, he brought his hand down, bringing himself to completion rather quickly. 

~*~*~

It took a lot to surprise Mito Uzumaki. But for Madara to come tearing into her house, 9 tails lashing and ears twitching frantically, was definitely not what she was expecting. 

“Oh. Hello, Madara. Tea?” She held up the cup she had just poured, and Madara just stared at her for a minute. 

“It didn’t work!” he exclaimed, and Mito rose an eyebrow. 

“What didn’t work?” 

“Your seal!” 

Now, that was definitely a surprise. She put her mug down. “What do you mean, ‘it didn’t work’?” she demanded, and he sat down on his haunches, shaking his head. 

“Well, it worked at first,” he muttered. “And then it just….He just ripped free, it was….” He paused. “Well, kinda hot, but still! I thought it was supposed to keep him contained!” 

“It was!” she shot back. She pressed her fingers to her temples, rubbing circles into them. “But I mean….He’s Hashirama. The God of Shinobi. There’s not a lot that can keep him down.” 

Madara grunted softly, standing up and shifting. He dropped down on the couch beside her, sighing heavily. Then he went completely still. 

“Oh Sage,” he breathed, eyes widening. “He’s going to kill me.” 

Mito smirked. “If you left him in the state I imagine you did….Then yes. You’re a dead man, Madara.” 

The panic on his face was well worth the disappointment of her seal failing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At least he succeeded. Somewhat.


	10. Paybacks a Bitch (Until it isn't)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Urgh.   
> My motivation for this failed me. My original idea didn't end up making it in.

*~*~*~

Madara hid out with Mito the entire first half of the day, regretting the fact that he fled last night. He should have just stayed, and let Hashirama have his way. There was no way the Senju was going to let him get away with what he pulled. 

The idea seemed great at the time, but now he had regrets. Wary anticipation built up in his guts, increased tenfold when he remembered he had a meeting to attend today. With Hashirama. 

He groaned, thunking his head on the table. He screwed up. He screwed up so hard. 

Across from him, Mito hummed. “Yes, you did,” she agreed, and Madara realized he said that out loud and groaned louder. She had no compassion. “Go get yourself cleaned up, you’re supposed to be at the Tower in an hour, and I will not be held responsible for you being late.” 

Madara groaned, pushing himself up and muttering about heartless princesses. Mito just grinned at his dismay. 

Thankfully, he made it back home without incident, changed and cleaned up, and headed out for the Tower. He twisted his fingers the entire way there, anxious. He arrived 10 minutes before the meeting started, warily making his way to Hashirama’s office. 

The Senju looked up as he entered, his expression carefully blank. “Hello Madara,” he said, signing another paper and slipping it into a neat pile. 

Madara swallowed thickly. “Hi, Hashirama…”

They stared at each other for a minute, Hashirama cool and quiet, and Madara practically vibrating, anxious and curious. 

Finally, Hashirama stood up, stepping around his desk and moving towards him. Madara instinctively stepped back as he approached. Until his back was against the wall and the Senju was caging him in, hot breath against his ear. 

“You know I’m displeased right?” he asked lowly, darkly. Madara only nodded jerkily, and he hummed. “I’m a little impressed with you,” he continued. “But mostly annoyed…” 

He moved down, and bit down on his neck hard. Madara jerked, but Hashirama held him firm, sucking hard until there was a giant bruise there. He leaned back, pleased with his work. “Come here after the meeting.” His tone left no room for argument, and Madara found himself nodding. 

Hashirama grinned, all bright and innocent once more, pecking the giant hickie he had made and stepping back to release him. Madara’s hand came up to his neck, and he cursed quietly. It was too high up on his neck to hide with his collar. 

Hashirama opened the door, smiling and waving him to come with him to the meeting. Madara shot him an irritated look, sweeping by and carefully arranging his hair to cover the mark. 

A hand around his wrist yanked him back, and his hair was swept back again. “Don’t try to hide it,” Hashirama growled, teeth brushing against his nape. “Let everyone see it. Let them know who you belong to…” 

His voice sent an uncontrollable shudder down his spine, and he nodded hastily, unable to bring himself to speak. The dark overshadowing Hashirama’s face faded again, and he gave him an affectionate kiss on the cheek. 

“Great! Come on then, we have a meeting to attend!” Hashirama ushered him down the hall, and Madara internally died. 

*~*~*~*

The meeting itself wasn’t too bad. It was actually one of the more interesting ones he’d attended. A few very good points were made with regards to Konohas defences and emergency responses. It was pleasing to see more people bring up points about maintaining the village's safety and ensuring its continuation. 

He was still mulling over a couple of things when he and Hashirama made their way back to his office. Hashirama sat down behind his desk, waving for Madara to sit opposite of him. He took it thoughtlessly, mind still far away. 

“Nara raised a good point,” he mused, tapping his fingers on the armrest. “If we overlook that one weak spot in the wall, it could be used against us.” 

“I’m planning on setting him and Tobirama on it,” Hashirama said. “If they can get over their petty rivalry, they’d make a good team.” 

“A very smart team. What do you think about making Nara tactical head? He has the brains for it. Maybe not the motivation but if he can get over that…” 

“Maybe we should look into him heading up the entire division,” Hashirama said thoughtfully, and Madara nodded in agreement. 

“And I like Inuzukas idea about daily patrols,” Madara added. “They’re a restless clan, so maybe we can put them in charge of that. It’d be a good way to occupy them. Gives them a clear purpose.” 

“Good idea. I think they’d like that.” Hashirama rearranged some papers. “And then we have the Hyuugas issue.” 

“They’re impossible to satisfy,” Madara complained, his irritation immediately flaring at the mention of the other clan. Or more specifically, just their clan head. He and Madara got off on the wrong foot right from the start, and any mention of his name was enough to send Madara into a mini temper tantrum. It had taken a lot of restraint not to leap over the table and strangle the man in the middle of the meeting. 

“How much more land do they need?” Madara went on. “They aren’t even the biggest clan in the village. Far from it, rather. And the audacity of him to even dare suggest that we’re passing over their requests in favour of the Inuzuka is ridiculous. The idiot is a pompous, self inflated windbag that-“ 

He cut himself off abruptly, fingers curling around his armrest. He glared at Hashirama, who smiled back innocently. “Do continue.” He said, leaning his chin in his hands and smiling, all gentle and false. Madara hissed at him, subtly moving his leg. The vine that was currently wrapped around it, and slowly making its way upward, tightened just a little. A warning. Subtle, but there. 

“You have a complaint, Madara. As your Hokage it’s my job to hear the concerns of all my people. Tell me, what bothers you?” 

Madara bristled at him, but he was still mad enough about the Hyuuga. “Don’t give them what they want,” he growled. “We fought hard enough to get them to join the village. Now they have to conform to its rules. They don’t need anything more. It’s like they’re trying to maneuver themselves into a higher standing than other clans, with more advantages. What do they think is going to happen, some inter village war? Even if there was, the Uchiha would undoubtedly be on the opposite side. For all their boasting, the Sharingan is obviously superior to their useless-“ 

“You should really speak more nicely about your allies,” Hashirama broke in, and Madara scowled. More vines were curling around him. His wrists were firmly bound down to the chair armrests, and the vines on his legs were curling under his thighs, just below the crease of his ass. “You are clan head to the Uchiha, Madara. You could try to be more graceful.” 

“Not to him,” Madara huffed, displeased at his lecturing tone. Carefully, he tugged a little at the vines creeping along his body. They tightened immediately. “What are you doing, Hashirama?” he asked carefully. Hashirama smiled. 

“Nothing, Mada…” Even as he spoke, trying to convince Madara his actions were innocent, one of the vines snuck under his clothes, insistently running up his leg and brushing against him. 

He hissed quietly, trying to twist away to little avail. “Hashirama, stop,” he growled, and his innocent smile darkened. 

“Why should I?” he drawled. “Are you not…..interested?” 

He’d be lying if he said no. “We’re in your office-“

“Are you forgetting how enjoyable it was the first time we were here?” Hashirama asked. “It’s fine. We have no more meetings today. I have all day to take you apart right here. It should be fun, don’t you agree?” 

Madara stared at him, realizing what he really wanted to do. “We can’t do that here!” he protested, now starting to worry. If Hashirama wanted to draw things out, fine. But surely he wasn’t suggesting doing so here! In his office, semi public. 

“Hashirama, not here,” he said desperately, and Hashirama just smiled. “You have an exhibition kink, don’t you!” he accused, drawing a loud bount of laughter. 

“You’re just figuring this out now?” he asked, obviously amused. 

“Come on, Hashi,” Madara tried. “Not here.” Hashirama stood, sauntering around his desk and tilting his face up with his chin. 

“You tortured me yesterday, Madara. This is simply payback.” He leaned down to kiss him affectionately, and Madara let him, only for a moment. Then he concentrated hard for a brief second, and shifted into the fox. As his body grew larger, the vines around him broke. 

He lunged at Hashirama, knocking him down, and made a mad dash for the window. He hopped out, tails flaring for balance, and bolted across the roof, leaping to the next one over and making a successful escape. He risked a look back over his shoulder once, seeing Hashirama gazing after him, his face unreadable. 

At least now he knew what Hashirama had planned. And that’d make it easier for him to counter it, preferably before the Senju could act. He grinned widely, hopping down to street level once he was several blocks away. 

A group of children ran over to pet him, not at all afraid of him as a fox, and he let them, scheming. 

*~*~*~*

He had a plan. Hashirama would want to get back at him, but he was an insatiable man. All Madara had to do was not let him get his way, and soon Hashirama would forget all about his quest for payback, and things could go back to normal. 

The only problem was resisting him. He could be very tempting, and persistent. Fortunately, Madara had a great way to stop any and all activities before they went too far. 

He was curious as to when Hashirama would attempt again. He got his answer a few hours later. As was their Thursday custom, Hashirama came over for dinner with their favourites from the little shop just outside the Uchiha district. He let himself in, beaming at Madara who was already preparing tea for them both. Akiro was sitting on the counter next to him, bushy tail wagging lazily. 

Hashirama set their food down on the table, bending to tussle Nyx’s ears. She licked at his fingers quite happily. Neither of them said anything about what happened earlier. Madara just quietly handed him some plates, and he set about dishing out their meal. 

Tea in hand, Madara sat down at the table, and Hashirama sat opposite,sliding their plates to their respective owners. Madara inclined his head in thanks, watching Hashirama pick up his chopsticks, briefly say his thanks, and dig in. He himself ate a little slower, a little more gracefully. 

Hashirama finished before him, as usual, and set his elbow on the table. Chin propped up in his hand, he watched Madara finish, his expression carefully neutral. Madara didn’t have to guess to know what he was thinking. It was obvious in the way he followed the movement of his chopsticks, eyes lingering on his lips. 

Once finished, Madara pushed his plate away, wetting his mouth with his tea. “Decent,” he commented, breaking then unusual silence. It was strange. Hashirama usually chatted loudly and enthusiastically during their meals. But today he had hardly saId a word. It was unsettling. 

Hashirama smiled, sharply, and Madara stood quickly, gathering their plates and hurrying to the kitchen to clean them. He felt more than heard Hashirama stroll up behind him, and braced himself. Warm hands settled on his hips, and a soft pair of lips pressed against the side of his neck. Hashirama’s broad chest pressed against his back, warm and strong. 

His hands slowly looped around him, exploring up his chest. His lips left a burning trail up and down his neck, over his shoulder, which Hashirama had exposed by tugging at the collar of his mantle. 

Madara let him continue for a while, until Hashirama shuffled a little behind him, pressing his hardness against him. He gave a shallow thrust, and Madara moved. He swiftly pushed back, using the counter to help strengthen his move, and twisted to the side. Hashirama immediately grabbed at him, but he sidestepped, and shifted into a fox. Sitting on his haunches and curling his tails around himself, he gave Hashirama a look. 

“You can’t hold out forever,” Hashirama said stiffly, adjusting himself a little. Madara watched the movement of his hand, and looked up, amused. 

“I’ll hold out longer than you,” he drawled. Hashirama scowled, taking a step forward. Madara swiftly surged to his feet, streaking out the still open door and yipping loudly to his foxes. They scrambled after him excitedly, and they raced away onto the streets of the Uchiha district. 

*~*~*~*~

The next morning, Madara woke up with a start, feeling an unexpected presence in his house. Sitting up, he clicked his tongue a few times. Sleepily, his foxes roused themselves from where they had curled up around his legs. Calica growled to show her displeasure. Reluctantly, they let him up, and he slipped silently out of bed. 

He paused, tilting his head and flaring his chakra, letting his senses reach out. He relaxed when he recognized Hashirama’s presence, drawing his chakra back in. Then, as the Senju got closer to his room, he tensed again, frowning out the window. A few vines were creeping over his window. It was still dark out; the sun had yet to fully rise. The horizon was slowly growing lighter, but otherwise it was dark. Which meant Hashirama likely wasn’t coming for a social visit. 

He came to this conclusion just as his door slowly and silently swung open. Hashirama crept in, pausing and looking surprised to see him standing by his bed, eyes wide and wary. 

“Hey, Madara,” he said slowly, letting the door swing shut behind him. Madara tentatively reached out with his chakra, brushing against Hashirama’s. it was turmoil, churning and barely restrained within him. Responding to his emotions, his needs. 

Madara took half a step toward the window, testing. Hashirama twitched. That was enough warning for him. Just as Hashirama lunged at him, hands outstretched, Madara exploded into a fox, shoved through the vines growing over his window, and took off. His three foxes raced after him, excited by his movements. 

He heard Hashirama roar in anger, and grinned, sharp and with too much teeth. Two could play at this game. 

*~*~*~*

They went on like that for a long while. Madara made things worse, making himself so readily available, and making himself scarce just as quickly. Sometimes they’d go an entire day without incident. They went about their day as usual, went home, often sat on the couch, working or reading together. Other times they’d make out lazily. But the moment Madara started to suspect Hashirama would try to get back at him, he shifted into a fox, dark eyes mirthful. 

“You’re dragging this out longer than it has to be,” Hashirama pointed out one time. Madara cocked his head at him, baring his teeth in a foxy grin. 

“I’ll keep it up until you let it go.” Hashirama snorted. 

“You think I will?” he asked, and Madara snickered. 

“Yes. You’re insatiable, and you’re far too forgiving. Soon enough, I’m sure you’ll cave. You’ll come and ask me, plead with me. And just maybe, I’ll let you.” With a swish of his tails, he sauntered out to the living room, hopping up on the couch and curling up. All the while, his dark eyes watched him, mischievous. 

With a sigh, Hashirama joined him, crossing his arms and pouting. “Will you if I promise not to do anything out of the ordinary? You’ve got to be feeling just as frustrated, Mads…” 

He flicked his ears, all 9 tails wagging slowly. He was considering his proposal carefully. Truth be told, he was getting a little tired of waiting. He had picked up a little on his insatiable. But he worried that Hashirama would try a repeat of a few weeks ago, keeping him on edge for hours and leaving him sore and cranky for days. But on the other hand….if he could get Hashirama to only focus on him, and forget entirely about his little revenge quest, maybe things could go back to normal and he’d not have to deal with that again. Truth be told, it was enjoyable. But not something he wanted to repeat anytime soon. It was a once in a blue moon kinda thing. 

He narrowed his eyes at him. “No revenge?” he confirmed, squinting. Hashirama put a hand over his heart. 

“I swear on my honour as the Senju clan head and the First Hokage of Konoha, I will only make love to you tonight,” 

Madara snorted. “You don’t have to say it like that,” he grumbled, shifting back into a human, grabbing his collar, and yanking him forward. 

It was a regular night. Mind blowing, but normal. Sated, Hashirama curled his arms around Madara, keeping him close. Satisfied that his scheme was working, Madara didn't hesitate to fall asleep beside him, head tucked under his chin. 

~*~*~

Contrary to his belief, Hashirama was not intending on letting the matter slide. Three days later, after one more bount of regular love making, he sought out Mito. The Uzumaki didn’t look surprised in the slightest when he showed up at her door, and just waved him inside, setting about preparing tea for them both. 

“You made the seal that Madara used on me,” he assumed in way of greeting. She smiled. 

“Tobirama helped.” 

“He did?” That was a surprise. What had happened to his dear baby brother. So naive and innocent. Mito was evil. 

“I assume you want me to do something about it?” 

“Well…” He had thought this was a brilliant idea, but now that he was here, he was having second thoughts. Madara had obviously turned to her for help to keep him down. For whatever reason, she was willing to help. But would she be willing to help Hashirama instead now?

“Oh, stop overthinking things, Hashirama,” Mito scolded. “Tell me what you need, and I will help you.” 

Hashirama eyed her, then decided to just go with it. “Madara keeps changing into a fox everytime I try to...initiate… messing with him a little bit, he changes into a fox and takes off.” 

Mito nodded understandingly, but still gave him an expectant look. She wanted him to say it. 

“If you can, I want a seal that will keep him human for a couple hours. Blocks his ability to shift.” 

“That’s a little sketchy, Hashirama,” Mito said. “You sure he’ll consent?” 

“Madara talks big, but he’ll give in sooner than he’ll want to admit.” 

Mito snickered. “Probably. Wait here.” She stood up, and disappeared down the hall, returning in only a few seconds and pressing a seal tag into his hand. “I made this right after I made that other seal for Madara. I’ve been expecting you for a long time, and I have to say I’m surprised it took you this long to come to me.” 

“Ah, well…” He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “Madara will let me as long as its...normal. And it’s been great, really. But I don’t want him to think he can get away with what he pulled.” 

“Oh of course not,” she agreed, grinning. He winced a little. “Don’t worry, Hashirama. I won’t judge. You should see the things that Tobirama and I-”

“Okay, okay, I’m leaving!” He stood up quickly, tucking the seal into his pocket. “Thanks, Mito.” 

“Tell me how it goes,” she sang, ushering him out. Slightly perturbed, Hashirama let her push him out. As much as he loved her, he was glad he didn’t end up marrying her. Firstly, because he had Madara. Secondly, she was terrifying. 

~*~*~

He found Madara a few hours later, after he had hidden his seal and a few other necessities under their pillows. He was in the Fox Room, which didn’t surprise Hashirama in the slightest. Sitting in the corner of the room, he was tossing a couple balls along the floor. The three foxes ran after them, gleefully retrieving them for him and waiting for him to toss them again. 

Hashirama leaned against the doorframe, watching him play with them. Madara ignored him until his foxes were good and tired, running after the ball half heartedly. The Uchiha stopped when they grew too tired to keep going. He settled them down for the night, and finally, finally, turned to him. 

“Evening,” he greeted, inclining his head. 

“Hi,” he replied, fondly. He loved seeing him acting so softly around the foxes. It showed a much gentler side of him. He stepped back, letting Madara close the door. “Have a good day?” 

“Relatively. You?” 

“Yeah, it was good.” He waited till they were walking down the hall, before he grabbed Madara’s wrist, pushed him against the wall, and kissed him hard and passionate. He purred softly in response, hands reaching up and fisting in his clothes, surging up in eager reply. Hashirama resisted the urge to smirk. 

He had to be careful. Madara was smart. He had figured out how to tell what Hashirama wanted. He knew when he just wanted him, wanted to love him and pleasure him. And he knew when Hashirama wanted to take his time, make him writhe and moan and beg, desperate and needy. Hashirama made it easy for him to tell. 

When he just wanted regular coupling, his kisses were harder, more adventurous, and he was quicker to guide them to bed. When he wanted to wreck his lover, he moved slow, biting harder and more often, touching his skin more often, and pulling his hair. He’d lean him against the wall first, groping and grinding, and then slowly tugging at their clothes, unwrapping him like a gift. It didn’t take long for Madara to connect the dots. 

Pulling Madara closer, he kissed him hard and messy, playing up his desire. If he pulled this off, Madara wouldn’t suspect a thing. He held back a smile, moving his hands to Madara’s hips. The Uchiha stiffened, looking into his movements carefully. Hashirama started nudging him back to their room, and he relaxed. Hashirama grinned internally. Success! Madara thought this was just going to be a normal night between them. 

He pushed Madara down on the bed, yanking away their clothes at the same time. He so badly wanted to admire the way the Uchiha was spread out under him, wild hair fanning his head, eyes even darker with desire. But if he did, Madara would catch on. 

Hurriedly, he finished tossing aside their bothersome clothes, running his hands down his face, over his neck and shoulders, and down his arms. At the same time, he distracted him expertly with his tongue in his mouth. Smoothly, he took out his favourite piece of red silk. He swiftly bound his hands, and secured them to the headboard, exactly the way they had been the first time he used it. Then he leaned back, his grin predatory and revealing. 

Madara blinked up at him, and realization hit him as Hashirama slowly ran his palm down his body, slow and purposeful. “Hashirama…” he said suspiciously. 

“Ma-da-ra,” Hashirama sang back. If there was ever a doubt of his intentions before, there were none now. Madara twisted, eyes darkening the way they did before he shifted. Just as he started to shudder and shake, his change starting to take effect, Hashirama pulled the seal out from its hiding place under the pillow and slapped it on the base of his throat. 

His shift ground to a halt, and any changes already made reverted. Madara froze, his breathing growing rough. “What?” 

“You’ve been denying me for days,” Hashirama said darkly. “Paybacks a bitch, isn’t it?” He wove together a few hand signs, and vines crawled down from the headboard and crept down Madara’s arms, further entrapping him. Not to be outdone, Madara bent impressively, setting his knee against Hashirama’s throat and pushing. Hashirama met his gaze, and smirked. 

He pulled away, grabbing his shoulder and hip, and flipping him over onto his knees and elbows. He draped himself over his back, his heavy weight forcing Madara to stay put, unable to twist free. With his lips next to his ear, he ran his fingers delicately down his side. “I’ll be nice, I promise,” he muttered lowly. “I don’t have enough self control to draw things out this time.” 

He leaned back, hands wrapped around his hips, pulling him back and rolling his own forward. The friction had him groaning loudly, and he bit his lip, very much enjoying the image in front of him. Perhaps he should take him from behind more often….

Reaching down, he tugged Madara’s knees a little wider, pushing down on his shoulders, sucking in a breath at the appealing arch of his spine. Unable to help himself, he fisted his fingers in his hair, and pulled. Madara whined, his spine arching even more, and Hashirama’s mouth dried. 

He leaned down, biting and nipping his back and shoulders. His other hand pulled out their bottle, and with some difficulty, he coated his fingers one-handed. He slid them in with little teasing, and slid in two fingers right off the bat. Madara made an appealing little keen, and he bit down harshly on the meat of his shoulder to try and keep himself in control. 

Madara’s fingers twisted desperately in the sheets, the silk and the Mokuton left red marks on his skin, resisting his frantic thrashing. “Easy, Mads,” he soothed. “I won’t make you wait much.” 

He leaned back to sit on his knees, crocking his fingers and revealing in his whine. “Hashirama,” he hissed, and he tugged gently on his hair. 

“Do I have to gag you?” he asked, spreading his fingers. 

“Noo,” he whined, twisting a little to hook his ankles around the backs of Hashirama’s knees. 

“Just a little longer,” he said calmly, He rolled his wrist, pushing up into him, and pleased when he moaned loudly, head dropping to press his forehead against the mattress. 

He prolonged the prep for much longer than he was supposed to, despite his promise to be quick. He was quickly losing his self control, but he did want him to suffer just a little. Finally, as his voice went high with want, Hashirama pulled his fingers out, slicked himself up, and pushed in. 

Madara made a loud sound of relief, pushing back. Hashirama stilled him with a firm grip on his hips. “Let me,” he rumbled, leaning down to dot kisses down his spine. He rocked forward, pulling Madara back. Groaning, the Uchiha let him take control, thrusting into him at his own pace and his own way. 

His back was glistening with a thin layer of sweat, and he absentmindedly licked at it, finding the salty taste more pleasing than he imagined. 

“Hurry up, Hashi,” Madara hissed, clawing absentmindedly at the sheets. Hashirama hummed. 

“You can wait for a little,” Hashirama said, rocking lazily, and Madara whined desperately, bowing his head. Hashirama pulled it back up with his hair. He hummed quietly, pleased with the angle given to him. He folded his knees under Madara, pulling him back and seating him on his lap, pressing his chest firmly against his back. Hands on his hips, he half lifted Madara, and brought him back down, slow and deep. 

Madara leaned back, head dropping onto his shoulder. Hashirama leaned in, mouthing lazily at the side of his neck. “I have an idea,” he muttered, and Madara made a half interested hum.”After tonight, why don’t we just let this whole ordeal slide, yeah?” 

“Mhmkay,” Madara grunted, rather breathlessly. 

“Lovely.” He drove into him further, holding his hips hard and surely leaving bruises. Deciding his need for revenge was sated, he focussed on bringing them both to completion. He came first, warm inside of Madara, and he followed right after, with a delicious whine and an appealing arch of his spine. 

Hashirama slowly separated them, turning Madara over and giving him a fond kiss. “You’re lovely,” he said, and Madara peered up at him with tired dark eyes. 

“Yeah, I know,” he said with a sigh. Hashirama quickly released his hands, rubbing sensation and blood flow back into them, and Madara let him, resting his forehead against his shoulder. “That was...different,” he said. 

“It was great. Can we do it again?” 

“What, me on my knees for you?” 

The phrase sent an entirely different image through his head, and he groaned. “Don’t say that,” he muttered. Madara pulled back, squinting at him, and then realized. 

“Oh. No, not like that!” He shoved at him, and Hashirama laughed. 

“Can we try that too?” 

Madara arched an eyebrow. “Maybe one day. If you behave.” Hashirama wiggled, already looking forward to it. 

“Great. Can’t wait.” 

Madara snorted, leaning down into him again and sighing. “We can do that again,” he said after a while, and Hashirama beamed, kissing the top of his head. 

“You’re the best.” 

“I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't wait for the next chapter, ngl  
> Also, Merry Christmas everyone!!!


	11. Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I had all those other chapters for a reason :D

//We see the effects of Madara’s brief kidnapping. Animal-napping? Idk guys //

~*~*~

Hashirama woke up to spiky hair tickling his face. Wrinkling his nose, he turned his head aside, reaching out to run his fingers over the bare skin of the man curled half on top of him. Tilting his head back, Madara stared up at him, eyes especially dark in the dim lighting. 

“Truce?” he said hoarsely. Hashirama smiled. 

“Yeah. Truce.” Humming contently, Madara laid his head back down over his chest. Hashirama ran his fingers lightly over his spine, admiring the marks he had left that night. 

Alas, Madara was never content to sit and snuggle for as long as Hashirama wanted to. A short while later, he sat up, untangling himself from his grip. He paused to stretch, back popping, and rolled off the bed, hunting about for the clothes Hashirama had tossed aside. 

“Don’t stay in bed all day,” he scolded over his shoulder. Hashirama sighed. 

“Wanna make some tea?” 

“No.” 

Hashirama smiled as he left, listening to him begin that very task. Reluctantly, he pulled himself out of bed too, leaving it unmade and hunting down his white Hokage robe. 

When he finally made it down the stairs, Madara pushed a cooling cup of tea into his hands, his own half done. Pale, gloveless fingers curled around his wrist, gently tugging him outside to the porch. Hashirama tried and failed not to smile as Madara poked at him to sit down on the steps. 

When Madara sat beside him, close enough for their sides to touch, he rested one hand on his thigh, holding his mug up to his lips and blowing on it. The sun was rising slow and beautiful, casting tones of red and pink and orange over Konoha, slowly stirring awake. 

Seeing the sun rising over the village they fought and worked so hard for, Hashirama swelled with pride. Feeling emboldened, he reached out, and laced his fingers of his left hand with Madara’s right. The Uchiha didn’t pull away, but turned his head slightly to the sun. The growing light illuminated the light dusting of pink over his cheeks. Hashirama beamed. 

“We did good,” he said, and Madara hummed. “I’m proud of us. The Senju, the Uchiha, all the other clans. We managed to end the warring state, Madara. And now other countries are following our example. We ushered in a new era of peace. Our dreams from childhood have finally come to fruition.” 

“Konoha will go down in history as the fore bearer of a tidal wave of change,” Madara agreed. Hashirama smiled. 

“I’m glad you’re here with me,” he said fondly. “I don’t think I’d ever be able to do this without you.” 

“Yes, you could,” Madara said confidently. “Even if you didn’t have the support you have, you are too driven, too dedicated, and far too stubborn to not succeed.” 

“I love it when you compliment me,” he said, pleased, and leaning in to press his lips against his temple. Madara snorted. 

“Yeah, well…. don’t get used to it.” 

“ I cherish every kind word you say,” he said happily, and sincerely. Madara muttered under his breath, gently digging hide nails into the back of Hashirama’s hand. 

“Watch it, Senju,” he muttered, but it held no bite. Hashirama had to pinch his leg to resist the urge to give a delighted wiggle, his happy thoughts and emotions nearly overwhelming him. All he really wanted to do was grab Madara and squeeze him with all his might, pushing his affection onto him. But if he did, he’d be more likely to break every bone in his lovers body. 

“Come on,” he said, taking his mug and reluctantly untwining their fingers. “We have to get to work.” Madara grunted, letting him take the mug and standing stiffly. Hashirama deposited the dishes inside, and hurried right back out. Taking a chance, he slowly reached out, lacing his fingers with Madara’s again. 

Much to his surprise, the Uchiha allowed it. All he did was lift his chin a little haughtily and avoid eye contact. Hashirama grinned so widely it hurt, and didn’t stop smiling for the entire walk to the Hokage Tower. A few people stopped and gave them a weird look, surprised at seeing the two walking hand in hand. But the vast majority of the people they came across looked more amused than anything else. 

Much to his displeasure, Madara let go once they got to the Tower, giving Hashirama a brief stroke across the cheek with a knuckle, and then heading down the hall to his own office. Hashirama watched him go, a dopey smile on his face. His good mood stayed with him the entire day, infecting everyone he came across. 

Madara came to his office as the work day came to a close, likely already done with his work and coming to help Hashirama finish his. He wordlessly held out his hand, and Hashirama handed him half of his remaining paperwork. Making himself comfortable on the chair opposite of Hashirama’s, Madara started reading, chin propped up in his hand, dark eyes gazing down at the papers. 

They only had a few more papers to go over when a frantic knocking sounded at the door. Hashirama startled, jerking in surprise. Madara just looked up lazily, glancing over at the door with a raised eyebrow. 

“Enter,” Hashirama called, setting aside his papers, eager for a distraction. Even if he was almost done, he always welcomed an opportunity to put it off. 

The door burst open, and three shinobi burst in. All of them held papers in hand, marked with the seal of the Kages of other villages. The sight had both he and Madara straightening instantly. 

“Lord First, Uchiha-sama,” the lead shinobi gasped. “We have troubling news from outside our borders.” 

“I see that,” Hashirama said, holding out his hand for the papers. The shinobi handed them to him, and Madara stood, circling the desk to read them over his shoulder. News from the Sand village, the Rain village, and the Land of Rice Fields. He arranged them into a pile, smoothing out the first one, and scanning over its contents. It made him feel violently ill. 

The second and the third bore similar tidings. Pushing the reports away, he looked up at Madara, who was expressionless, face carefully blank. But his dark eyes had faded away into the furious red of the Sharingan. 

All three were warnings from the other Kages; a warning to keep children safe. From all three of them, they reported children going missing from the villages, most of them orphans from the Warring State they had just been in. Many had been found dead. Those that were never found were those possessing Kekkei Genkai. The bodies that were found were horribly mutilated. 

“Experiments,” Madara said darkly, crossing his arms and squeezing his biceps furiously. “Kekkei Genkai’s improve survival rates, for most.” 

“Send word back,” Hashirama said, standing up. “Assure our neighbours that we will be sending teams to look into the matter, and we ourselves will be taking extra precautions to protect our youth. Send them our deepest condolences for their losses.” 

Bowing hastily, the three shinobi raced out the door. The two left behind were quiet for a while. 

“We created our village to protect children,” Hashirama said, glumly. “Other countries followed our example. And now this happens? So soon into establishing security and peace?” 

“The world is evil, and dark, and twisted.” Madara said quietly, stepping a little closer and reaching out to slowly run his fingers through his hair. It was meant to be a comforting movement, trying to help ease him, and Hashirama appreciated it. “There will always be people who commit atrocious deeds, Hashirama.” 

“Who are we if we cannot protect the innocent from such people?” Hashirama asked despairingly. “What then is the point of having this village? Or any other village?” 

“Don’t talk like that,” Madara scolded, lowering his hand. “We can’t save everyone, Hashirama. No matter how fast you are, or how hard you try. You just can’t save everyone.” His voice darkened with a tiny bit of grief. Hashirama didn’t have to guess to know his thoughts were drifting to Izuna. 

“But we can try,” Madara followed up after a brief pause. “Let me go and investigate the scenes and bodies. Maybe I can find something out.” 

Hashirama frowned a little. “It’ll be fine,” Madara said, waving a hand flippantly. “I won’t be going alone.” 

“You won’t?” he asked, surprised. There was no way he could leave for what could end up being an extended trip. He had too many responsibilities and-

“I want to take Tobirama with me,” Madara continued. “And your cousin, Toka.” 

Hashirama stared at him, certain he heard something wrong. “Tobirama and Toka?” he asked, surprised. “Why them?” 

“Tobirama is a good sensor, and as loath as I am to admit, observant and smart. Toka is naturally suspicious and is good at putting herself in a killer's shoes. I’ll also be taking two of my Uchiha. Noya and Shikai. Noya has an immense knowledge of sealing and stealing seals and methods, and Shikai is only half Uchiha. His mother was a Hatake. He’s a good tracker.” 

“Ah, those two,” Hashirama said, pursing his lips. “When do you leave?” 

“As soon as I tell them what’s going on,” he said. “I’m confident that they will come without complaint when they hear the news.”

~*~*~

True to Madara’s belief, there was little protest from his proposed team members once he explained what was going on. They left that very night, and Hashirama came to see them off. “Be careful,” he said firmly, to his lover and his brother and cousin, and to the two other Uchiha lingering behind them. “I expect you back within a week. If you’re not, I will come after you.” 

“Anija, you have too much work to do to come after us,” Tobirama said bordly. “We will be fine.” 

“Have a little faith, Hashirama,” Toka said, inclining her head. Her sharp features looked even sharper in the darkening light. “We’ll be back before you know it.” She swaggered off a little ways, and Noya and Shikai trailed after her, after bowing respectfully to Hashirama. 

“Don’t try to kill each other while you’re gone,” he said. Tobirama lifted his chin disdainfully. 

“If any casualties are to be had, it will not be on our side or inflicted by members of our party,” he said firmly. “Do try to keep the village from falling apart in our absence.” 

Hashirama pouted, and Tobirama gave him a frustrated look, turning to stalk away after the other members of their party. He turned to Madara, tugging him closer with his wrist and kissing the back of his hand. 

“Do refrain from murdering anyone important,” he requested. 

“Don’t tell me what to do, Senu.” He stepped a little closer, hopping up on his tippy toes and pressing his lips against his. “Since when do you ever doubt us?” 

“I suppose I’ve gotten a little softer since Konoha began,” Hashirama admitted. Madara smiled. 

“Seems you have. Take care, Hashirama.” He brushed his fingertips against his cheek, and turned away. He was wearing his red armor, which he hadn’t seen in months. He watched the group as they disappeared, heading to the Land of Rice Fields, and sighed. Truth be told, he wasn’t worried about any of them getting injured. He was worried about the political havoc they might wreck. 

~*~*~

Rocking back on his heels, Madara closed his eyes, and inhaled deeply. The smell of rotting flesh, still new and not yet overpowering, filled his nostrils, and he winced. His sense of smell was much more sensitive now than it had been before, and it made his stomach turn. Normally, he might not have cared. Only these bodies were those of children. 

Standing swiftly, he looked over his shoulder, at Shikai and Tobirama examining another body. Toka and Noya were prowling the site of the crime, examining wounds, taking in the setting. It was quite obvious that these bodies had been dumped; killed in another area and cast aside here to rot. It was a well hidden groove. The only reason the bodies had been found in the first place was because a pet dog had come back to his masters with a hand in his mouth; a very small hand. 

There were eight bodies here. Their hands and necks were all littered with tiny holes, like injection points. All of them had sliced skin on their wrists and ankles and thighs. Some were partially healed. The exact cause of death was unknown. Tobirama suspected it might be chakra exhaustion. Noya agreed, and suggested it might also be poisoning. There was some significant discolouration at the injection sites, and the skin around them felt hard and brittle, breaking away at increased pressure. 

Madara sighed softly, closing his eyes and shifting. Without his chakra, his senses weren’t as sharp. But he could smell and feel better. His instincts were stronger. 

The instant he turned into a fox, paws touching the blood stained grass and tails lashing, he knew something was wrong. An otherworldly feeling of wrong crashed over him, and he shifted his weight uncomfortably. 

He paced towards the body closest to him, lowering his head and sniffing up and down it. It seemed to radiate something. Not chakra, not poison….But something strangely familiar. It called out to his own nature. 

It was oddly comforting with how familiar it was. Madara sat down, tilting his head and staring down at the body. It had been a young girl, maybe 8 or 9. She had flaming red hair. Half of it was burned away. 

“Madara-sama?” Noya came up beside him, and without hesitation, reaching out to rest a hand on his shoulders. “Is something wrong?” 

Madara hesitated, lifting his head to see the others look over curiously, and deciding that it did no harm to voice his realizations. “There is something emitting from the bodies,” he said, slowly. “Something foreign, and unnatural….but somehow familiar to me.” 

“Familiar how?” Tobirama asked, stepping closer and kneeling next to the body. His pale hands moved over the injury sites. 

“Just...familiar.” He shrugged his shoulders, searching for a way to describe it. It struck him suddenly. “Like pack,” he said, ears flattening uneasily at his realization. “She feels like pack.” 

“Pack as in, backpack, or in an animal like way? Like a wolf pack?” Shikai asked quietly. Madara considered, and nodded, feeling a familiar pit of dread in churn in his stomach. 

“Yes,” he breathed. “Like a pack. A herd. A companion. Like….family, in a way.” 

He stood up, and started pacing, all 9 tails lashing, and his mind racing. He paused by her every once in a while, sniffing at the child's body. Struck with inspiration, he shifted, and extended his senses into her still form. The overwhelming feeling of familiarity almost hurt. 

“Now that I look into it that way,” Tobirama spoke up. “I see what you mean. Your chakra has felt a little different since your backfiring seal problem with Kurama. If I look into it, your chakra and remnants of hers feel….similar.” 

“What about the other bodies?” Madara asked uneasily. 

“I’ll go see,” Tobirama said, standing up to do just that. 

“Madara?” Noya asked quietly, watching him gaze off into nothing, mind racing. “What’s wrong? What are you thinking?” 

“I have a very bad feeling about this,” he whispered. “And I think it may be entirely my fault.” 

~*~*~

Shikai and Madara, after a long time of carefully sorting out scents and linking them to bodies, picked up on the trail. It was revolting to Madara; sharp and acidic and oily. He led the way, ears swiveling madly, searching for sounds, and Shikai followed right behind. The others came along, watching their flanks and their backs, letting them focus on hunting down the suspected responsible individual. 

The bodies had only been there for maybe 2 days, but it was still a significant time advantage of them. They moved swiftly, at times losing the trail, and very quickly picking back up on it. As the scent grew stronger, fresher, Madara grew more and more restless. 

They paused to rest when the scent grew so strong they didn’t even have to try and follow it. Shikai went on ahead to scout, and Madara paced their camp restlessly. “Calm down,” Tobirama scolded. He had been eying Madara rather carefully the past few days, expression unreadable. Madara suspected he may have come to a similar conclusion that he had. “You aren’t helping anyone with all your pacing and chewing on your tails.” 

Madara growled at him, sitting on his haunches and glaring at him. “I don’t chew my tails,” he said disdainfully. The other three gave him a look, and he huffed, looking away. Okay, maybe he did. It was a nervous habit. 

They waited for an hour or so, before Shikai finally came back, looking pale. “What did you see?” Noya asked, leaping to her feet as he came bursting through the bushes. Madara’s hackles immediately raised at the look on the man's face. 

“They’re monsters,” he whispered, sounding horrified. “Monsters. How could they?” 

“Calm down, Shikai,” Madara said, pushing his snout against the man's back and nudging him to sit down. “Take a breath. Tell us what you saw.” The man was shaking horribly, and Madara sighed, moving to sit beside him, leaning against his side. He wasn’t good at this, but he had a feeling the man needed some comfort. He wrapped a few of his tails around him, and was surprised when he seized one tightly, eager for a distraction. 

“There’s a compound,” Shikai said quietly. “I couldn’t get too close. But there are fires burning outside. I got close enough to see. They’re...bodies… Of children. Dozens of them. They’re burning them.” 

“What else did you notice?” Tobirama pressed, uncharacteristically gentle. Shikai looked like he might throw up. 

“They’re mutilated,” he whispered, sounding horrified and sick and faint. “The bodies…. they’re all torn up and warped. Too many limbs, too few….. broken and twisted and….” He shuddered horribly, raising a hand to his mouth. “Some were still alive,” he choked, his dark eyes glistening. “But they didn’t even scream, or fight. They just….let themselves be thrown in. It was like they weren’t all there.” 

Instinctively, Madara shoved his snout against his neck, automatically seeking to comfort his clan member. Shikai raised shaky hands, clenching his fur. “There are guards,” he continued, well trained despite his shock and horror. “They have good vantage points. High walls with shinobi patrolling the upper walkways. Only one way in and out. Big gate, heavily guarded. A couple of big long buildings inside the walls. It’s a fortress.” 

“Take a minute to calm down,” Tobirama said. “We move against it before the sun rises.” 

“With no further investigation?” Noya asked. Madara growled. 

“Anyone who dares to kidnap, harm, or slay a child deserves nothing less than the worst death. We did our recon. They will all burn before morning comes.” 

~*~*~* 

Not an hour later, Madara and Tobirama crouched, hidden, behind a few large boulders, just a little ways from the gates. Toka, Shikai, and Noya were hidden out closer to the fires, and Madara didn’t envy them. Even here, he could smell the scent of burning flesh. It must be so much worse over there. 

As their teams heaviest hitters, Madara and Tobirama would storm the gates. The other three would take care of the shinobi outside of the wall around the fires before going to aid them in entering the compound. 

Tobirama slid back from where he was peering around the corner of the rock, nodding once to him. Nodding back, Madara traded places with him, hands already moving in a familiar pattern. His chakra flared up at his summons, and he lunged to his feet, jumping out from behind the boulder and breathing a massive fireball towards the gate and the guards patrolling it. 

The flames encompassed them before they even noticed it was there. They didn’t have a chance to scream before an even larger water dragon followed right up behind it, extinguishing the flames and drowning the men ready to scream. With a great hiss, the flames went out, and thick steam hid the sight from view. 

Under its white cover, Tobirama and Madara moved through the charred, wet bodies. Lighting a concentrated blade of fire in one hand, Madara started carving away at the door hinges. Tobirama sawed at the hinges of the other door with a blade of water. Between the two of them, it only took a few minutes to get through the doors. They paused every now and then, Madara lighting a fire and Tobirama instantly putting it out, renewing the steam hiding them from view. 

Madara would have much preferred to charge in, flames blazing, but Tobirama had cautioned him against it. There may be more of the missing children still inside. A direct attack might be dangerous to them. For the first part of their mission, they would be more stealthful. 

As much as he hated to admit it, Tobirama was right. The doors caved in, and Tobirama caught them with a few pillars of water, lowering them gently so they didn’t make a sound. Madara glanced from left to right, taking note of the two stairways leading up to the walkway on top of the wall. He waved his hand, catching Tobirama’s attention. Pointing to them both, he made a circling motion with his hand, and bumped his fists together. Tobirama nodded, and Madara grinned, sharpy and dark. He turned to the right, and Tobirama went to the left. 

Bounding up the stairs, Madara paused just before stepping onto the walkway, taking note of the men patrolling it. The thick steam they had created earlier work like a charm. They were entirely unaware they had been breached. And the shinobi by the fires were just too hard to see in the dark. They had no idea that Noya, Shikai, and Toka were wreaking havoc down there. 

With a familiar surge of chakra, Madara activated his Sharingan, slipping out of the shadows. Drawing a kunai, he silently slit the throat of the man closest to him, lowered his body silently, and moved on. He killed about 20 or so before finally meeting Tobirama in the middle. The Senju had a little bit of blood on his face and in his hair, but it wasn’t his own, Madara could tell. 

Tobirama jerked his head, turning and leaping down from the walkway to the courtyard below. Madara followed right behind, and together, they slipped into the first building. It was unremarkable. Plain, boring. There were about 20 or so small rooms with a single bed and a desk in them. They all had the same, grey-ish green sheets. A few were occupied. 

Madara heated the hinges and locks, and Tobirama solidified them, trapping their occupants inside. This way they’d stay put, and cause no problems until they knew what they were dealing with. At the far end of the building was a common area: a kitchen, dining hall, and living room. Also unremarkably plain. 

They moved on, and this building was much more interesting. It was a lab, empty in the late hour. Madara wandered away, peering into the cages lining the entire left side of the wall. Only a few were filled, and all of them with some species of fox. They all looked sickly, thin and ragged, and evidently underfed and beaten. 

Reaching into one of the cages, Madara stroked one of the foxes, who looked far too ill to react. It just blinked at him, eyes milky and dull. Madara moved a hand down, feeling its ribs, and feeling a fresh wave of anger crash over him. Ever since his transformation, and his adoption of Calica, Akiro, and Nyx, he’d felt particularly fond and protective of foxes. 

Turning away, Madara continued on. Tobirama was leaning over a counter, examining a pile of papers. He came to join him, and he wordlessly handed some papers over to him. At the top of each paper was a name, and a sequence of numbers and letters. They had all been crossed out with a giant red X, labelled as a failure. A picture of the test subject was on the top right hand side, and underneath an age, gender, and Gekkai Kenkei. 

“I think we might be right,” Tobirama said quietly, and Madara shoved the papers away. They had never outright discussed their theories, but they knew they held similar thoughts. 

“How could this happen?” Madara asked, grieved. 

“Like you said before,” Tobirama said, “Humans are twisted and wretched creatures.” 

“I should have known better.” 

“You couldn’t have.” Tobirama’s passive attempt to console him didn’t help, and Madara’s hands lit up, burning the papers he held. 

“Are there any more here?” 

“Let’s find out.” Tobirama grabbed the rest of the papers, the ones Madara had not lit on fire, and tucked them into his clothes. He led the way out of the lab, and into the next building. Madara followed a little more slowly. 

The next building was nearly just as empty. It looked like a prison. Instead of doors, the tiny rooms had bars, and two bunk beds each. Tobirama paused in front of one of the cells, and Madara peered around him. 

A child lay on one of the beds, still and unmoving, his skin pale, and his eyes open and sightless. He had strange marks over his face and hands. Distracted as they were, neither he nor Tobirama, well known for their sensory skills, noticed another person enter, until he laughed, maniacally. 

“Madara Uchiha,” the man drawled, sauntering closer and making both he and Tobirama whirl around. He was a big man; tall and broad shouldered, with dark eyes and a rat-like expression. “If it isn’t the man of the hour himself!” 

Madara growled quietly, his chakra pulling slightly as his Sharingan tried to swirl to life. He pushed it back; for now. “I do hope you like this establishment,” the man continued, gradually gliding closer. For some reason, it made him uneasy. “After all, it was built in your honour.” 

“What are you talking about?” Tobirama demanded. Madara suspected he already knew, just like he himself did, but wanted confirmation. The man didn’t even spare the Senju a glance, his beady eyes looking over Madara. 

“News of your condition sent about quite a stir,” he drawled, shoving his hands into his pockets, the picture of relaxed boredom. “There were many attempts to...imitate it.” 

“Why would you do that?” Madara demanded, taking a step forward. The man grinned. 

“Who wouldn’t we? I’m sure you’ll be saddened to hear that all attempts have failed. You are utterly unique, alone. A fox and human hybrid has not yet been successful in our creation. We found that children possessing a Kekkei Genkai lived longer than those that didn’t, but they also succumbed to the stress of the work. They just keep on rejecting the foxes DNA, their bodies seeing it as foreign, a danger. How on earth did you manage to pull it off?” 

By this time, the man had gotten only a few feet away from them. He was either very brave, or very stupid, or very confident. If he knew who they were, he wouldn’t be so bold as to come so near, unless he was also powerful, and at least thought he might be able to take one of them. One. Not both. 

“Why would you do this?” Tobirama hissed, and the man finally looked at him, his expression incredulous. 

“Surely, you are not so stupid, Senju,” he mocked. “Have you seen him? He’s exotic, unique. A prize to be had, to be displayed. Do you have any idea how valuable he could be? And how valuable others like him might be? If we can manage to pull off the shifting back and forth like Madara has in our test subjects, they’d be worth a fortune. Even more so if we can get them to master their in-between state, and stay there. Men would pay much for such...erotic...objects.” He glanced back at Madara, and he definitely wasn’t imagining the leer there. 

“Would you be willing to let me run some tests, Madara Uchiha?” the man continued, either unaware of Madara’s growing fury or ignoring it. “I believe your blood may hold the secret, the key, to mastering our work. Your contribution would-”

Madara cut him off with a snarl, lunging forward and exploding into a fox. The man reacted quickly, removing his hands from his pockets and revealing two seals gripped in them. He tossed one towards Madara, and a spear of water stopped it. Madara inwardly thanked Tobirama as he dodged the second, batting the man's hand aside with a tail and shoving him down with his front paws. The man scrambled backwards, and Madara stalked him, ears flat, teeth bared. 

His chakra pulled a little, and his Sharingan activated, blazing and furious. The man made the mistake of meeting his eyes, and Madara pulled him into a genjutsu, one of the strongest and more violent ones he’s ever cast. 

It lasted only a moment, and when Madara let it go, the man was foaming at the mouth, bleeding from his eyes and ears and nose. With a disdainful noise, Madara stepped forward, fitting his jaws around the man's neck, and tearing out his throat. It was the first time he found the taste of blood pleasant, satisfying. Absentmindedly, he licked at his chops. 

But his bloodlust was far from sated. Lashing his tails, Madara prowled down the hallway, his instincts poking at him, urging him to continue. Tobirama followed warily behind him, smartly keeping his distance. 

Madara made his way through the compound, killing any of the guards he saw, checking in on the cells, and feeling disappointed when he found them empty or the occupants no longer drawing breath. He was feeling more and more unsettled, discontent. 

It was when he reached one of the last cells that he realized it was bloodlust or anger that had been urging him on. It had been a familiar, protective urge. He stared in at the cell before him, Sharingan blazing to life once more. Curled up on the corner, wide green eyes terrified, was a little girl, barely 4 years old. Sticking up from her sandy, tan coloured hair was two fox like ears, and 3 tails were curled around her. 

Madara’s fury flared again like a tidal wave when he saw the many bruises and cuts littering her tiny body, and the shock collar around her neck. His chakra started to leak out, and his anger at the men he had just killed bleed out with it. 

Over and over again, a single word resounded in his mind. 

MINE. 

~*~*~*

Wiping her brow, her Sharingan causing her eyes to ache, Noya looked away from the man she had just killed and tossed in the fire. Shikai and Toka were just finishing up with her. There had been a lot more shinobi out here than they thought, and as such, it had taken them much longer to clean them all up. She hoped Madara and Tobirama hadn’t waited for them. She doubted it. 

“We should find Madara-sama and Tobirama,” Shikai said, running a hand through his messy dark hair. He reminded her a little of her son, 3 year old Kuzon. They had the same spiky hair that persistently flopped over into their eyes. 

“The compound is very quiet,” Toka commented, eyeing it. Much to her surprise, Noya quite liked the Senju. She was fierce and powerful, and enjoyed fighting as much as she did. 

“A good quiet or a bad quiet?” she asked, and Toka glanced over at her, sharp face dark with a frown. 

“I don’t know.” Noya and Shikai exchanged a glance, and Shikai opened his mouth to speak when Tobirama appeared out of nowhere, his hand on Toka’s shoulder. 

“We need to put some distance between us,” he said grimly, looking back at the compound warily. 

“Why?” Shikai asked, looking around, likely for Madara. “Where is Madara? Is he hurt? Did you leave him-”

“Madara is why we have to leave,” Tobirama cut in. “We found something. He’s furious, and we have to get out of here if we want to survive.” 

“What?” Toka asked sharply. “Tobirama, explain. You can’t just-”

She cut herself off when a wave of unbridled fury and bloodlust washed over them all. The ground began to shake, and an otherworldly, foreign roar vibrated their ear drums, painfully loud. 

Like something straight out of a nightmare, a towering blue figure, wisps of violent chakra scattering off it, rose up, illuminating the night. Madara’s Susanoo, granted to him by his Mangekyo Sharingan. 

Noya inhaled sharply, fear and awe rippling through her as Madara proceeded to smash the compound to the ground. There were people screaming, but not for long. 

“Sometimes,” Shikai breathed quietly, “I forget just how powerful Madara really is.” 

Noya glanced back at her companions, watching the scene with varying expressions of awe. Tobirama was expressionless, but she could see the unease in his eyes. After all, Madara was able to go toe-to-toe with his elder brother, and even if he usually didn’t win, he could draw out the fight for days. Such power was terrifying. Her respect for her clan head doubled in the span of that time. 

~*~*~

Madara’s rampage didn’t last long. The compound was burning, raved to the ground within only a few minutes. The Susanno faded away, and an eerie silence fell. It took ten minutes or so for Madara to return to them, quiet and occupied. 

In his arms, he held the little girl he and Tobirama had found. She was pressed against his chest, her tiny hands around his neck, and his face hidden against his shoulder. 

He stopped when he reached them, arms wrapped protectively around her. “We need to go home,” he said, quietly. “There is nothing left here.” Susanoo had utterly destroyed the place, wiping out the men, the labs, the evidence. 

Looking closer, Noya saw two foxes draped over his shoulders, thin and close to death. Tobirama’s eyes flicked to them, and he stepped a little closer, cautiously. “They were the only two who could make it?” he asked, hesitantly reaching out. Madara eyed him for a moment, wary. And then, much to her surprise, he removed one of the foxes, placing it in Tobirama’s arms. 

“Yes. The others were in much too rough shape. I put them out of their misery before…” He removed the second fox too, and Shikai stepped forward to take it. 

“And who is this?” Noya asked, waving a hand at the little girl in his arms, but not daring to step closer. Madara had grown gentler, kinder, but when he was in a state such as this, he could be violent, and easy to rile. 

Much to her surprise, he didn’t glare and flare his chakra. He just put a hand on the girl's back, and she burrowed further into his arms. “Her name is Ahsona.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want Madara to have someone to dote on and spoil and be protective over. More, oh more, to come. Going a bit on a tangent here, so I'm a little unsure about where I'm going with this and if I even should. I almost didn't post


	12. With Three Seats at Last

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hashirama's in love.  
> Madara adopts everything. 
> 
> Also, Madara's tired and lazy and makes Hashirama do all the work when they're together, but Hashi doesn't really mind.

~*~*~*

Of the many things Hashirama worried might greet him when Madara and Tobirama and their team returned, what he received was not at all what he expected. He thought maybe their return would come with threats of war from other countries. Not that he was expecting them to mess up. But Tobirama and Madara were both blunt, and while clever and tactful, had no qualms about saying things like they saw it, not sparing other people's emotions. Many could take it the wrong way. 

He was made aware of their return by one of the shinobi guarding the gates, informing him that Tobirama and Madara were coming to give their report. The action bewildered him a little. Why would Madara and Tobirama send word of their arrival? Normally they just showed up, commanding his full attention. 

That was when he started to suspect something was wrong. It was an anxious 10 minute wait until they arrived. Finally, just as Hashirama was losing his mind with nervous anticipation, the door swung open. Tobirama strode in first, with Madara close behind. Hashirama looked over them both quickly, relieved when they didn’t look injured at all. Then his gaze landed on the bundle of blankets resting in Madara’s arms. 

“Welcome back,” he said, dismissing the bundle for now. “How did it go? Did you find who was responsible for the missing children?” 

“Oh, we did,” Tobirama confirmed, glancing over at Madara. “Uchiha was quite thorough in their...extinction. There’s nothing left of them but a few documents I saved. And, of course….” He waved his hand at Madara, and Hashirama gave him a curious look. 

Madara met his gaze, dark eyes a little weary. Then he shuffled whatever he was holding, lowering his head to mutter something to it, and pulled the blankets away partially. 

The little girl in his arms clung to the collar of his dark purple mantle. Oh, he had changed out of his armor before coming, Hashirama realized, watching the child cringe into his chest. She was a beautiful child, her hair sandy coloured and gently curled, and her large eyes bright green. But the most catching of her features was the fox like ears poking up from her hair, and the three bushy tails hanging past the crock of Madara’s elbow. 

“There are a lot more side effects from my condition that we thought,” Madara said quietly. The girl in his arms stared at Hashirama, looking utterly petrified. “People are trying to replicate it, trying to give fox like characteristics to children. Ahsona here is the only survivor that we found.” 

Ahsona whimpered, burying her face in the crock of Madara’s neck when Hashirama stood. Automatically, Madara tilted his head, brushing his cheek against her head, and rumbling low in the back of his throat. It wasn’t a sound he often made, and usually it was only when he was in the body of his fox. But it seemed to soothe the child. 

“She’s very, very afraid,” Tobirama said quietly. “Of everything, except Madara. I think she can sense the similarities between them, just like Madara can with her.”

“Do we know anything about her?” Hashirama asked, remaining where he was. As badly as he wanted to come forward and embrace his lover and greet the child, it was probably wiser if he didn’t crowd her. 

“Not yet. Just her name. It was on the plate outside her cell. I already have a team looking into figuring out where she’s from, and who she might belong to. But most of the children taken were orphans, insignificant to their villages or extended family. The likelihood that we can return her to where she belongs is slim.” 

Ahsona sniffed quietly, and Madara hummed again. “So what do we do with her then?” Hashirama asked, unable to not squeal internally at the sight of Madara being so soft. 

“She’s staying with me,” Madara said immediately, glaring sharply at the both of them. “I’m the only one she’s not afraid of, and I’m the only one who can, in part, understand her. I’m keeping her.” 

“I was just about to suggest that,” Tobirama said dryly. “That is, of course, if it’s okay with you, Anija.” 

“Of course,” Hashirama said enthusiastically, maybe a little too loudly. Ahsona flinched, and Madara glared. Cowed, Hashirama slowly sank into his chair. 

“I’m taking her home,” Madara said, rearranging the blankets over her again, and letting her hide away. “Mito will be over soon. She needs to be fed and clothed and cleaned, and I don’t really….” He waved a hand wearily. “I don’t really know how to do that. Apparently, Mito does, for some terrifying reason.”

“I’ll give you two some time to settle,” Hashirama agreed. “Tobirama, write me a report? I want to send word to the other Kages of what happened to their village's children.” 

Tobirama nodded. “Of course. I’ll have it ready by tomorrow morning.” Bowing his head, Tobirama slipped out of the office. Rearranging Ahsona carefully, Madara stepped around his desk. With Ahsona hiding away in her blankets, Hashirama didn’t feel bad about standing up and reaching for him. 

“Tell me about it later?” he asked, standing and stepping to the side to kiss Madara’s temple. He hummed, leaning into it. 

“Yeah. The poor girl will probably sleep for a long, long while. She’s exhausted.” 

“Great. I’ll see you soon.” He moved in a little closer, pressing his lips against Madara’s briefly, and letting him go. An uncharacteristically gentle smile crossed his face, and he quickly, but smoothly, left his office, the door closing quietly behind him. When he was gone, Hashirama sank down into his chair slowly, mind whirling. 

Madara bringing home a child was definitely a surprise. He knew the other man liked children, but was unsure of them. Hashirama would be lying if he said he hadn’t fantasized about adopting a few children and starting a family with the Uchiha. Maybe, just maybe, Ahsona’s arrival would convince his lover to agree. 

~*~*~*~

Arriving back at Hashirama’s house, Madara left the door unlocked for Mito, making his way upstairs and to the bathroom. He set the blanket with Ahsona down on the counter, briefly closing his eyes, letting his ears and tails shift into place. The girl always seemed to be a little calmer when she saw them. Slowly, he tugged at the blankets around her, removing her from her cocoon. 

She stared up at him as he pushed the blankets away, keeping his movements slow and easy to see and read. The last thing he wanted was to make her afraid of him, especially seeing as she had latched onto him, even after seeing his Susanoo. “Ahsona,” he said quietly, holding up his hands. “I’m going to run a bath for you, okay? You’re all dirty. I’m sure you’ll feel a little better all clean. Is that okay?” 

Ahsona stared up at him, and slowly nodded. She hadn’t spoken at all since he found her, but was able to nod and shake her head. Madara suspected she was too shy and afraid to speak to him yet. He tried for a gentle smile, moving his hand slowly toward her, giving her the chance to move away if she wanted to. 

Gently, he rubbed the base of one of her ears. It always felt nice, and calming to him. He wondered if it’d do the same to her. She didn’t move or otherwise react. But her ears flopped ever so slightly to the sides for the first time. They had been flat against her skull nearly the entire time, signifying her fear and unease. 

Seeing this tiny hint of relaxation, Madara smiled a little more. He moved away from her slowly, drawing water for her bath and filling it with pleasant, lavender smelling soap. “Ahsona,” he said, crouching before her again. “Is it okay if we take off your clothes? They’re all dirty and ripped. I can get you new ones, yeah?” 

He waited until she nodded, and helped her take her ripped and dirty clothes off. While he did, he started purring quietly, having noticed that the sound also helped her calm down. Much to his relief, she didn’t panic or flinch away when he carefully reached for her, lifting her up and setting her in the warm water. 

She startled a little, eyeing the foaming bubbles, and Madara purred a little louder. “It’s okay. It won’t hurt you. See?” He scooped up a handful of bubbles, letting them wobble between his fingers. Slowly, Ahsona reached out her tiny hand, touching some of the bubbles he held. 

“There you go,” he soothed. “Good job.” Making sure to move slowly, he started scooping water and soap over her, washing the dirt from her hair and body, taking care around her ears and tails. She watched him the entire time, staring at his ears and tails, watching 9 extra appendages flick behind him lazily. 

When he finally deemed her clean enough, he pulled the stopper to let the water drain, lifting her up and setting her down on the bath mat. Taking an old, soft towel, he started to dry her off. She stood still, letting him, and he purred loudly to show he was pleased. Now that her hair was clean and free of the mats and clumps, it fell all the way down to her waist, straight with dampness. He carded his fingers gently through it. 

“Do you remember Noya? The one lady we came in with? She gave us this for you to wear.” He showed her the light purple kimono, with a white belt and silver lining. “Shall we put it on?” Ahsona nodded, and he helped to dress her, securing it loosely. He didn’t want it to be too tight. It might make her panic. 

He had been intending to bring her downstairs and give her something to eat, but the girl looked ready to pass out standing there. Besides, she had eaten some things on their way back to Konoha. It might be best to let her rest. With a soothing rumble, he held out his arms. “Do you want to take a nap?” he asked. Ahsona nodded, stepping hesitantly closer. 

Madara lifted her up, and she buried her face in the crook of her neck, taking her to the Fox room. Calcia, Akiro, and Nyx were there, and they leaped up excitedly at his arrival. A reprimanding click from him calmed them. Just like him, Ahsona seemed to quite like foxes, always reaching out for the other two that he had saved. 

Just like he suspected, Ahsona gladly went to his. Akiro leaned away warily, but Calica happily let the girl grab her. After claiming a few pets from Madara, Nyx licked Ahsona’s cheek. For the first time, the girl giggled. Gently, he arranged the girl and the foxes into the nest of blankets, staying there until Ahsona fell asleep. 

Quietly, he slunk out the room, leaving the door partially open and heading down and out to the backyard. Noya had brought the two foxes he rescued there. Just like with Ahsona, he bathed them and dried them, managing to get them to eat a few bites before ushering them to another room to rest. 

By the time he was all done with them and trotting down the stairs, Mito was already waiting for him with a cup of tea. “I’ve been here for a while,” she said, handing him a mug. “But I didn’t want to disrupt.” 

“Thanks,” Madara said, reverting back into his completely human form. 

“I brought some clothes for the girl, and some of the women from your clan gave me recipes for her,” Mito went on, waving to the bags sitting on the counter. “If she’s as underfed as you think, you’ll have to introduce her to food slowly. Keep it light, and easy for her. Too much and she’ll get sick. Small amounts of carbs, fruits, and veggies to start. I’d steer away from meat for at least the first few weeks.” 

“Thanks,” he said again, shifting his weight. He felt like he should say more, express more gratitude, but he didn’t know what to say. Thankfully, Mito seemed to understand. Her expression softened. 

“It’ll be fine, Madara. Trust your instincts. You’re doing well so far.” 

“For now,” he huffed. 

“You’ll have Hashirama to help you,” Mito pointed out. Madara hummed, and finally admitted something he wanted to hide from even himself. 

“I don’t want to let her go,” he said quietly. “I want to keep her. It just...feels like I should. But what about Hashirama? What if he doesn’t want her to stay with us? What if, in the chance that we can keep her, he doesn’t want her? I don’t want to lose him, or her, but I can’t choose between them, and-”

“Madara,” Mito interrupted. “You must be utterly blind if you can’t see. You’ve been together for months now. All Hashirama wants to do is settle with you and start a family. He’ll be ecstatic to know you want to keep Ahsona.” 

“If we can,” Madara muttered, successfully hiding the leap of delight he felt at her words. “If she has parents they’ll want her back. Or maybe her village will want her returned?” 

“We’ll handle that when we get to it,” Mito said, reaching across the table and resting her hand over his. “Where is she now?” 

“Sleeping with the girls,” Madara replied. Mito hummed in acknowledgement, knowing that when he said that, he was referring to his foxes. 

“Tobirama is working on his report already,” she said softly. “He told me about what happened, what was going on. It’s awful.” 

“It was,” Madara agreed, frowning at the memory. “I hope that’s the only facility that’s doing such things.” 

“I think so. All the children reported missing were found in some of the files Tobirama brought back. Everyone is accounted for. Ahsona is from Suna. Hashirama will inform them of her survival when he sends out a report to them.” 

Madra hummed, taking another sip of tea. Mito said nothing more, and they sat together in silence. After a while, the soft skittering of claws on hardwood had him perking up. “I think she’s awake,” he said, listening to his foxes move around upstairs. “Will you stay?” 

“Yes. I want to meet her. Go bring her down, I’ll make her something to eat.” Casting a grateful look over in her direction, Madara hurried up the stairs, making sure to use some noise to announce his presence. His three foxes ran up to him in delight when he entered, and he knelt down to greet them. It was only natural they were excited about him; he’d been gone for a week. 

Cooing at them, and running his hands over their fur, he glanced up for Ahsona. She was sitting in the middle of the nest, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, watching him. She didn’t flinch when he looked at her, but did draw the blanket a little closer to her. 

“Hello, Ahsona,” he greeted. “Did you sleep well?” 

A tiny nod. 

“Shall we get you something to eat?” 

Another nod. He leaned back, gently nudging Nyx away, and held out his hand. Slowly, Ahsona wiggled out of her blanket, her purple kimono ruffled, and slowly moved towards him. She stepped into his arms, and Madara purred quietly, lifting her up. Calica, Akiro, and Nyx followed at his heels as he carried her down the stairs and to the kitchen. 

Mito was setting a plate down on the table, with a few slices of cheese, some bread, and apples slices on it. Madara sat down on the chair next to it, and started to slide Ahsona out of his arms and into the other chair. She tightened her fists in his hair and clothes, refusing to budge, and Madara relented. 

Smiling ever so slightly, Mito moved the plate in front of him, and sat down across the table, folding her hands on top of it. “Ahsona?” he prodded. “Can you loosen your hands? We have some food for you.” Slowly, when she was sure Madara wasn’t going to deposit her on another chair, Ahsona turned around, making sure she was still sitting in Madara’s lap. 

She stopped when she saw Mito, wiggling back against Madara’s chest, her eyes wide and fearful. “It’s okay, Ahsona,” Madara reassured. “See? She made the food for you.” He reached out, pulling the plate a little closer. Ahsona finally looked away, eyeing the plate. Madara set some of the cheese on a slice of bread for her, picking it up and holding it up for her. 

Hesitantly, Ahsona reached for it. She looked at them both carefully, as if making sure she could really have it. Madara started purring loudly to reassure her. Now confident the food was really all for her, Ahsona tore into it, practically inhaling it all. She looked at Mito every once in a while while she ate, and the Uzumaki princess smiled at her, sipping her tea and making quiet conversation with Madara. 

Ahsona finished her meal while they spoke, settling against Madara and watching the two adults. Every time he wasn’t replying to Mito, Madara would purr quietly, vibrating his entire chest. Ahsona seemed to like it. Slowly, her ears lifted from their position against her skull, perking up with interest every now and then. 

Mito refilled their mugs twice before she started yawning hugely, snuggling into Madara, her tails curling around her. They spoke quieter as she fell asleep in his lap. “Go, take her to sleep,” Mito encouraged. “She’ll need lots of it for a few days. I should head home anyways. Thanks for the tea and the chat.” 

Madara nodded in thanks, standing carefully and slowly making his way back upstairs. He bypassed the fox room, setting her up in one of the spare rooms next to his and Hashirama’s room. Pulling back the covers, he gently set her down, prying her fingers from his clothes, and tucking her blankets up over her shoulders. 

He slipped out of her room, leaving the door open a crack, and headed over to another spare room to check on his two rescues. He fed and watered them again, pleased to see that they were looking much more lively. 

By the time he was finally done, Hashirama had come home, and met him in the hall as he started back downstairs. “Hey, Mads.” he said, reaching out and taking his hands. “Our new arrivals?” 

“Ahsona is in the room next to ours. My new foxes are three doors down the hall.” Hashirama smiled, reaching up to brush his hair back from his face. 

“You look tired,” he said, running his fingers over the shadows under his eyes. “When did you last eat decently?” Madara frowned, thinking about it, and the Senju laughed softly. 

“Thought so. I picked up some takeout.” 

“You’re my favorite,” he said gratefully, letting Hashirama tug him down the stairs and guide him to the kitchen. 

“I know. How’s Ahsona?” 

“Sound asleep. Mito brought her a whole bunch of clothes.” He waved at the bags still on the counter. He hadn’t gotten the chance to look at them. “She’s clean and had something to eat. She’ll probably sleep for a long while.” 

“Tobirama tells me he thinks she’s from Suna,” Hashirama said, starting to dsh out their meal. 

“Mito was saying that,” Madara mused, sitting down. Hashirama pushed his plate towards him, along with a pair of chopsticks.. He dug in eagerly. “She must have some kind of Gekkai Kenkai,” he continued. “Otherwise she couldn’t have survived the process. Suna will want her back.” 

“I’ll ask Tobirama about it tomorrow,” Hashirama promised. “And I’ll send word to the other Kages tomorrow.” 

Madara nodded distantly, his mind drifting as he thought. “Ahsona is still so shy. She barely looked at Mito when she was here.” 

“She seems to like you,” Hashirama reminded, remembering how the girl had cowered into him. 

“Just because my nature calls out to her own. We feel similar, and it calms her. Purely an instinctive thing.” 

“Stop brushing it off,” Hashirama scolded. “She likes you. Be happy with that.” 

“It’ll take her a while to open up to others,” Madara said, narrowing his eyes just a little. “You have to be patient with her. She’s gone through a lot.” 

“I will be. I understand that she went through something traumatizing.” Madara smiled, relieved at his understanding, but not surprised. Hashirama may be easy to depress, but he was beyond understanding and compassionate. 

“Go get cleaned up,” Hashirama said when they finished, gathering their dishes. “You look like you need it.” 

“I do,” Madara agreed, touching his dusty hair. Hashirama smiled, leaning down to kiss his cheek, and pushed him out of his chair gently. Grumbling, Madara let him guide him out of the kitchen, heading up to shower. The warm water felt good on his sore muscles, and he realized how much of his own care he’d been neglecting in favour of Ahsona over the past few days. 

As much as he wanted to stay there and enjoy it, he finished quickly, toweling his hair half dry and dressing. Before seeing Hashirama again, he paused by Ahsona’s room, checking in on her, and smiling at the sight he saw. 

The girl was curled under her blankets, and his three foxes were lying on the bed beside her at random intervals. While they usually liked to just hang out in the fox room, he was glad to see them with Ahsona. If she woke up and he wasn’t there, their presence would relax her. 

He found Hashirama in the upstairs living room, rarely used by them. He quite liked this room though. It was small and cozy and comfortable. Hashirama was sitting on one of the couches, waiting for him. He smiled when he saw him, holding out a hand. Madara took it, letting Hashirama pull him onto his lap and loop his arms around him. 

“I missed you,” he said, pressing his lips against his. Madara hummed, resting his arms over Hashirama’s shoulders and lazily linking them at the back of his neck. 

“Missed you too,” he sighed, slowly drawing his tongue along his upper lip. Hashirama groaned quietly, one hand slipping down to firmly grip his ass. 

“I really, really, missed you,” Hashirama reiterated, moving him a little closer so he could feel just how much he did. Heat pulled in his guts, interest stirring. He wiggled against Hashirama, snickering as the Senju sucked in a breath, hands tightening around him. 

“I can feel that,” he teased, rearranging himself to straddle his lap. Hashirama gripped his hips firmly, pulling them down and rolling his hips up into him. Madara shivered, leaning down to bite Hashirama’s shoulder and stifle a moan. Hashirama smirked, pleased at his reaction, and thrust up a little harder. 

“Can we?” he whispered, breath hot against his ear. 

“Yes,” Madara breathed. Grinning, Hashirama pulled the tie of his yukata, pushing it down over his shoulders and letting it pool over his shoulders. He started kissing a trail down his chest, pleased that Madara was too lazy to dress further after washing up. 

Reaching into the folds of his robe, Hashirama pulled out a small bottle of oil, and Madara snorted. “Are you seriously just carrying that around now?” Hashirama blushed a little. 

“I was kinda planning on having you in the office when you got back,” he admitted. “But then you came in with Ahsona and Tobirama….” 

“Please don’t try to initiate anything in front of a child,” Madara snickered, eyes following the movement of his hands as he coated his fingers, reaching around him. He circled for a minute, just to see Madara squirm in anticipation. 

Just as Madara was about to snap at him to hurry it up already, he finally slid his first finger in, with a little bit of effort. A week having been gone does that, he supposed. He was tighter than usual, and already more receptive. 

“I’m not made of glass, hurry up already,” Madara growled, rocking back hard. Hashirama grunted, trying to keep him still. 

“Calm down, it’s been a while,” Hashirama protested. But he conceded, sliding in a second finger, and then the third soon after. As he worked his fingers in him, Madara started tugging at his robes, pushing off the white cloth of his Hokage robe and swiftly undoing his belt, tugging his pants out of the way just enough. He snagged the bottle from where Hashirama had tossed it aside, coating his fingers and slicking Hashirama up in preparation. 

“Enough already, let’s go,” he growled impatiently, leaning in for an aggressive kiss. Hashirama chuckled into it, bending his fingers as he pulled them out, reveling in his partners breathy gasp. Wiping his fingers off on the fabric of Madara’s yukata, he moved Madara closer, urging him up, and guiding him down on him. 

He watched Madara’s face as his eyebrows pinched and he bit his lip. They went slow, guiding Madara down until Hashirama was fully sheathed in him. Breathing deeply, Hashirama rested his forehead against Madara’s, watching his dark eyes. 

“Shall we?” 

“Yes.” Grinning at his answer, Hashirama tightened his hold on his hips, helping Madara lift himself up, and yanking him down hard. Madara moaned loudly, and Hashirama grinned when he raised a hand to try and muffle it. 

“Ahsona’s sound asleep?” he checked, and Madara nodded. 

“Yessss, come on, Hashi.” 

“Yeah, yeah…” Madara’s nails dug into his shoulders as he lifted up and down again, head falling back and eyes closing in pleasure. Hashirama thrust up into him, lifting him and pulling him down with him. 

They had been going steady for a good while when Madara stopped suddenly, and tilted his head at Hashirama. 

“What’s wrong?” the Senju asked worriedly. Mara grunted. 

“I just got back from a week long mission,” he said, wrinkling his nose. “You’ve just been here, doing Hokage stuff. I’m tired, and sore. You do the work.” 

Hashirama raised an eyebrow. “Really, Madara?” 

“Yes, really,” he grumbled, shoving at his chest. Hashirama rolled his eyes, but encouraged Madara to loop his legs around his waist. He slowly rolled them over, resting Madara on his back on the couch. 

“You’re so lazy,” he complained, finding his stride back and thrusting in again. Madara hummed, closing his eyes again. 

“No, you’re the one who’s well rested, not me. Makes more sense.” 

“You just want to lay back and enjoy it and not have to do anything,” Hashirama accused. 

“Obviously.” Madara smirked at him, and Hashirama enthusiastically set about fulfilling his demands. He thrust and ground into him, trying to draw out more of Madara’s addicting noises. 

“Did you know,” Madara said suddenly, breath hitching at a particularly hard thrust. “A single ounce of gold can be rolled down into a wire that stretches 50 miles long?” 

Hashirama paused, raising an eyebrow down at him. 

“Really? Neat.” 

“I know, right?” 

“Where did that come from?” 

Madara’s dark eyes twinkled. “I’ve been gone for a week. I haven’t been able to try and mess around with you and throw you off your groove.” 

“Is that what you were trying to do?” 

“Maybe. Did it work?” 

“A little,” Hashirama admitted, and Madara laughed. 

“Good, now get to work.” 

“I WILL gag you,” Hashirama threatened, and Madara smirked, knowing it was a hollow threat. Hashirama went at him a little harder, lowering his head to lick and bite at him, thrusting hard to please his lover. 

“Did you know-”

“NO.” He shoved his hand over Madara’s mouth, trying and failing to hold back an amused smile. Madara raised an eyebrow, licking his fingers, but Hashirama wasn’t deterred. 

“No, you can be weird when we’re done,” he ordered, and Madara huffed. 

“Well, then you better get on it then, Hashirama,” Madara grumbled, slightly muffled from Hashirama’s hand. Grinning, Hashirama resumed his efforts. With Madara complying, it didn’t take long for them to reach completion, having been lacking for a week. 

After Hashirama pulled out, Madara stretched luxuriously, fumbling for his yukata and lazily pulling it on. “Clean this up,” he demanded sleepily, unsteadily getting to his feet. “Then come to bed. I wanna sleep.” 

“Where you going?” he asked, pausing in the midst of gathering his discarded robe. 

“Check on Ahsona. And the foxes. Hurry up.” With that, Madara wobbled out the room. Hashirama sighed heavily, and Madara sent him a smile over his shoulder. “It was good, by the way,” he offered, amused when his partner's face broke out into a broad grin. Amused, he crept out into the hall, pausing by the guest room and poking his head in. 

Ahsona was still sound asleep. Akiro was curled on her stomach, Calica at her feet, and Nyx along her side. Good girls. He pulled the door mostly shut silently, checking up once more on the other two foxes. They were still skittish and shy, but were starting to recognize him. 

Satisfied with all of his rescues, Madara made his way back to their room, feeling that pleasant ache at the base of his spine and feeling quite pleased with it. Hashirama was already there, arranging himself on their bed. Without hesitation, Madara blew out the candles, made his way over, and plopped down half beside and half on top of him. 

Hashirama was so warm and comforting, and it was nice to curl up with him after a week of being away. “How you feeling?” he asked, and Madara yawned. 

“Tired.” 

“Go sleep then. We’ll talk in the morning?” 

“Mhm…” Madara ducked his head under Hashirama’s chin, cozying up next to him. Hashirama started stroking his back, hand trailing up and down his spine, and Madara drifted off to the warm, comforting sensation. 

~*~*~

It was late in the night, or perhaps early in the morning, when the door to their room was silently pushed open. Hashirama jolted awake, not moving for fear of waking his lover, curled up half on his chest and half smushed against his side. Slowly, Hashirama turned his head to the door, eyes adjusting to the slight change in lighting. 

Ahsona stood in the doorway, Madara’s three foxes standing all around her. She stared at them, and Hashirama smiled. “Hello there,” he greeted. Ahsona’s tiny hands curled in the fur of Calica’s neck. “Having some trouble sleeping?” Ahsona stayed quiet. “Do you want to talk to Madara?” Her eyes flicked down to the sleeping Uchiha, and she fidgeted nervously, taking half a step closer. 

“It’s okay,” he soothed. “You can come up with us if you want. The foxes can come too.” Ahsona was quiet, considering his offer. Then she slowly padded forwards, climbing up onto the bed. She stared at Hashirama suspiciously, climbing up along Madara and curling up against his side. In his sleep, he rolled over a little, hand finding her back. Like a cat, he curled around her, and she snuggled into his chest. Madara’s foxes arranged themselves wherever they could on the bed. 

Hashirama gazed down at them, heart practically bleeding in delight. Still half on top of him, Madara brushed his cheek over the top of Ahsona’s hair, purring quietly in his sleep. Ahsona stared at Hashirama a little longer, then buried her face in Madara’s hair, her tiny hands around his neck. 

Nyx nudged at Hashirama’s hand, and he started petting her absentmindedly, his other hand looping over Madara’s waist. Perhaps, a little part of him whispered, perhaps Madara would be willing to start a family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have this thing in my head where Madara would adopt each and every stray he comes across. Hashirama rolls with it. 
> 
> Ahsona is shy, but she'll open up a little in the next chapter


	13. I Belong with You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ahsona is attached to Madara and vice versa. Hashirama loves it, and wants to see his lover happy :)

~*~*~

Madara woke up pleasantly warm, with a body at his back and at his chest, and a weight on his legs. Ages ago, he would have bolted upright in a panic. Now, he just lazily raised his head, blinking tiredly at his surroundings. 

As he knew he would be, Hashirama was pressed up against his back, an arm around his waist, snoring quietly into his hair. Akiro, Calica, and Nyx had arranged themselves over the two of them. What surprised Madara was the little girl smushed against his chest. Ahsona had her head tucked under his chin, the fur of her ears tickling his jaw. 

Unable to stop himself, Madara started purring quietly, and the girl wiggled further into him with a tiny, content sigh. He wondered when she had joined them, and why he hadn’t noticed. Did Hashirama even know she joined them? He glanced back at the sleeping man, frowning, and quickly regretting his movement. 

Ahsona stirred, green eyes opening and blearily looking around her. He kept on purring so she wouldn’t startle as her vision cleared and sleep left his mind. Staring up at him, Ahsona fiddled with the collar of his yukata. 

“Good morning, pup,” he said quietly. For a moment, he was surprised at himself for calling her that. It seemed normal. Natural. Was this how Kurama felt when he referred to Madara that way? 

Ahsona looked up, meeting his eyes, and then looked away again. “G...good morning, Madara-sama,” she greeted hesitantly. Her voice was surprisingly strong, even though it wavered with fear and unease. 

“Don’t be afraid, Ahsona,” he crooned, half closing his eyes. “I’m glad you spoke to me.” Her ears pricked up adorably at that, and Madara felt a stab of heartbreak. He suspected she might have been punished for speaking at that horrid facility. “Anything you want to say, you can say it. I promise to you you will not be punished or harmed.” 

Ahsona looked back up at him, then hesitantly looked at the Senju pressed against his back. “Who is he?” she whispered. Madara smiled. 

“His name is Hashirama. He’s my….er, partner.” His reluctance to put a title on their relationship was starting to get annoying. 

“He’s scary…” Ahsona’s hands fisted in his robes. “But he let me come in here last night,” she continued. “He said I could sleep with you…” 

“And he was right,” Madara said, instinctively running his cheek over her head. She relaxed into the movement, and Madara took a moment to think about the strangeness of his action. It was something he saw his foxes do to each other all the time. 

“What are their names?” Ahsona said, pointing to his three foxes. 

“The white one's name is Akiro. The big one is Calica, and the dark orange one is Nyx.” 

“They’re very pretty,” she said shyly. 

“They are, aren’t they?” Ahsona nodded seriously. “Are you hungry?” Another nod. Makes sense. She’d been asleep for a long, long while. “Come, I’ll make you some breakfast.” She let go of his robes, moving back a little so he could untangle himself from Hashirama’s grip. The Senju frowned and muttered something in his sleep, but settled back with a sigh. 

Ahsona grabbed his robe with her tiny hand, holding onto him as he made his way out of the room and down the stairs, slowly, mindful of her short legs. He had her sit at the table on one of the chairs, finding her some juice and setting it in front of her. “Is there anything you like to eat?” he asked, watching her grab the glass, looking at its contents in awe. It was just orange juice, but she looked at it like it was gold. 

She hesitated, looking up at him shyly. “I like miso soup,” she said finally. “And rice with uni…” 

“Alright, then that’s what we’ll make,” he decided, pulling out the necessary ingredients and mentally thanking Hashirama for his appetite. 

“Really?” she blurted, and he glanced back at her. 

“Of course, Ahsona.” She stared at him in wonder, then grabbed her glass with both hands and took a few enormous sips. When it was empty, Madara wordlessly refilled it. She looked utterly thrilled. 

Hashirama came down the stairs and into the kitchen when there were only a few minutes left for the rice. He smiled gently at Ahsona, who looked away. “Good morning, love,” he said to Madara, looping his arms around him and kissing his cheek. 

“Morning, Hashirama.” He responded by arching up to his tip toes and kissing his jaw, glancing at Ahsona out of the corner of his eye. She was watching them carefully, but didn’t look nearly as afraid of Hashirama as the day before. 

“Whatcha making?” 

“Miso soup and rice with uni. Ahsona’s pick.” 

“Oh, really? Great choice, Ahsona.” 

“Thank you,” she said shyly, and Hashirama beamed hugely. 

“You’re talking now!” he said enthusiastically, and Madara curled his fingers around his wrist. 

“Not too much, Hashirama,” he scolded. He turned the Senju around, pushing him to a platter he had ready on the counter. “Can you take these to the other two foxes? They have to eat small amounts fairly often if they’re going to get better.” 

“Of course, dear,” Hashirama said brightly, taking the tray and all but skipping out the kitchen. Madara turned back to the rice, checking its progress. 

“Do the other foxes have names?” Ahsona asked shyly, and Madara looked back at her over his shoulder. 

“No, not yet. When they feel a bit better I’ll give them a name.” 

“Oh.” Something about her tone of voice made him pause. 

“Would you like to name them?” Her eyes immediately lit up. 

“Can I?” she whispered, and he smiled. 

“Of course. But we should wait until they’re not so sick, yeah?” 

She nodded eagerly, and he turned back to the stove to hide the ridiculous expression he probably had on his face. He was relieved to see the rice was done, and set about dishing it out. “We’ll start with a little bit first, and then you can have some more if you want it,” he said, giving her a bowl of miso soup and rice with uni. 

“Is it really all for me?” she asked, eyes bright with wonder. Madara chuckled, reaching out to tussle her pricked ears. 

“Yes, it is.” Awed, the girl picked up her utensils, and dug in. Madara served up portions for Hashirama and himself, sitting down by Ahsona and briefly saying his thanks. Hashirama came back when he was almost half done. 

“The two of them look good,” he said, depositing the formerly used dishes in the sink. “They practically inhaled what I gave them. They seem pretty energetic now.” 

“Maybe I’ll take them outside with the girls today,” Madara said thoughtfully, pleased with Hashirama’s report. The Senju hummed, taking his plate and sitting next to Madara. 

“Thanks for breakfast, love.” Madara hummed back. 

“Your plans for today?” 

“Office work in the morning for sure. I have to send out Tobirama’s report and contact Suna about Ahsona.” Madara turned his face, hiding his frown. A selfish part of him didn’t want Hashirama to inform them of Ahsona’s well being. “But I have the afternoon off.” 

“Oh, good.” 

“What are you going to be up to?” 

“I’ll be here,” he said, waving a hand. “With Ahsona and the foxes. Maybe we’ll go see Mito.” Ahsona looked up at the mention of the Uzumaki’s name. 

“She was here yesterday,” she remembered, and Madara nodded. 

“That’s right. She brought a whole bunch of clothes for you. Maybe we should take a look at them and see what you like. Would you like to do that?” 

Ahsona paused, thinking very seriously about that. “Okay,” she said finally, turning back to her soup. 

“Maybe we’ll come see you,” Madara added, bumping his shoulder against Hashirama’s. The Senju smiled. 

“I’d like that.” He curled his fingers around Madara’s wrist, squeezing lightly. “I’ll be back for lunch. Should I pick something up?” 

Madara shook his head. “No. Ahsonas stomach would be able to handle that yet. I’ll make us something.” 

“Can’t wait.” He stood, brushing Madara’s hair from his face and kissing the top of his head. “I should go,” he said regretfully, still petting Madara’s hair. “See you in a couple hours. Goodbye, Ahsona. I hope you have a good day.” 

Ahsona glanced at Hashirama, then at Madara. He gave her an encouraging nod. “Bye Hashirama-sama,” she said quietly, hesitantly. Hashirama smiled brightly, looking like he wanted to hug her, but he restrained himself. 

“Bye Maddy.” With a final kiss to the temple, Hashirama grabbed his Hokage hat and robe, and let himself out. Ahsona continued eating quietly, though she gave Madara a look every now and then. 

“Do you want to ask something, Ahsona?” he asked gently. He wanted her to feel calm and safe and comfortable, unafraid to ask him anything. It’d probably take time. 

Ahsona nodded slowly, fiddling with her bowl of soup. “Are you married?” If he had been eating he would have choked. Clearing his throat, Madara shrugged. 

“Well, no….” 

“Are you going to be?” 

“Uh, I don’t know…” 

“Do you want to be?” Her question made him pause. 

“I don’t know. I’ve never thought about it.” 

Ahsona hummed, turning back to her rice. Madara gathered his and Hashirama’s dishes, bringing them to the sink to wash. After they were put away, he set about preparing the foxes breakfast. He whistled twice, loud and clear. Only seconds later, Akiro, Calica, and Nyx came tearing down the stairs towards him, circling his feet, waiting eagerly for their meal. 

“Calm down,” Madara scolded, carefully stepping over them and setting the platter with their bowls on the ground. They dove at it, scarfing down their food like they hadn’t eaten in days. Fondly, Madara rubbed Nyx’s ears. 

“They’re so pretty,” Ahsona said, shoving another clump of rice in her mouth. “Where did you get them?” 

He chuckled dryly. “It’s a bit of a long story,” he said, shrugging. She stared at him, expectant. “Okay, well. A while ago some men….took me away from home,” he said slowly, carefully. He didn’t want to scare her, but he also didn’t want to disappoint her by not telling her. “They kept me hidden underground for a while, and that’s where I met these three.” 

“How did you get away?” she whispered. 

“Hashirama came and saved me. Along with my…..friend, Kurama.” 

“You were like me,” she gasped, eyes widening. 

“In a way, yes,” he agreed, taking her now empty bowl. “But I wasn’t so young as you.” Ahsona nodded, frowning at the table while he cleaned up. “What would you like to do now?” he asked once he was done. Her frown deepened. 

“Um, I don’t know.” 

“Okay, well why don’t I give you some ideas?” She nodded eagerly. “We can take the foxes out for a walk, and see how the other two are doing. We can go through all the clothes that Mito brought you and see if you like any of them. Or maybe we can walk around the village for a bit and I can show you around?” He doubted she’d want the third option. 

Ahsona frowned, thinking very hard. “Can we do….the clothes, and then the foxes?l 

“Sure.” He tidied off the table, moving the bags Mito brought onto it. Ahsona sat up on her knees curiously as he started taking the clothes out and unfolding them so she could see. 

“They’re so pretty,” she said in awe, reaching out and running her hands over the fabric of a light blue kimono. Madara hummed softly, sorting the clothes into piles of what would fit her and what was still too big. Those he tucked away into another bag for future use. 

‘Don’t get attached,’ he reminded himself. ‘She won’t be here for very long, so why are you even keeping these?’ Regardless, he tucked them away safely. 

“Can I wear this?” Ahsona asked, still holding the blue kimono. 

“You can wear whatever you want,” he promised. “Do you need help changing?” She nodded shyly, and he quickly helped her out of her rumpled purple outfit and into the blue one. It looked very nice with her sand coloured hair. “Can we comb your hair?” he asked, noticing the tangles. She nodded again, and he hunted down a comb that Hashirama used for his. 

She sat still and docile in front of him as he brushed her hair, making sure to be gentle, and scratching the bases of her ears now and then. “Where are yours?” she asked suddenly, just as Madara was finishing. 

“Mhm? My what?” 

“Your ears. And your tails….” 

“Oh, those. I can keep them hidden if I want to.” 

“Really?” The awe in her voice made him chuckle, and he came around in front of her, crouching in front of her chair so they were eye level. 

“Yes. Watch.” He closed his eyes in a very slow blink, willing his ears and tails to cross over into his human form. When he was done, and had opened his eyes, Ahsona was staring at him in awe. She reached forward, grabbing one of his ears with her tiny hand and tugging. 

He started purring quietly as her hands explored his ears and hair, tails waving lazily behind him. 

“Will I get more tails too?” she asked, looking over at his with fascination. 

“I’m not sure,” he said honestly. He hoped not. “Do you remember Tobirama? The man with white hair who was with me when I found you?” She nodded. “He’s very, very smart. Maybe we should go see him and he can try and figure it out. Does that sound okay?” 

She hesitated, fiddling with her collar. “Mito will be there,” he offered. Ahsona nodded. “Perfect. Why don’t we put these all away and then take the foxes out while we go?” 

“Okay.” She hopped off her chair, grabbing an armful of clothes. Madara gathered the rest, leading her back to her room. They hung the clothes up in the closet, and then Madara took her to the room with the other two foxes. She peered excitedly around his legs as the door opened. 

The two new arrivals were dozing on the pile of blankets and furs Madara had brought them, but they stirred when the doors opened. “Hey little ones,” Madara greeted, purring quietly to them. The bigger one, a beautiful white and black streaked female, chirped back. Her smaller male companion wiggled away from her, taking a few steps towards Madara in search of treats. He was almost solidly black, but streaked with flares of orange. His eyes were the same colour. 

“Why are they so weird coloured?” Ahsona asked, holding out her hand. The male fox sniffed at her fingers, and she giggled quietly. 

“That’s just the way they were born,” Madara replied. “The female here is a Marble fox, and the male is called a Melanistic fox.” 

“Can we name them now?” she asked, and Madara sighed. He had wanted to wait until they were a little healthier, but he couldn’t say no to her hopeful expression. 

“Okay. What should we name her?” He pointed at the Marble fox, and Ahsona frowned, thinking hard. 

“Ghost,” she said after a few minutes of serious contemplation. 

“That’s a good name,” Madara praised. “And what about him?” She stared at the Melanistic fox for a moment. 

“Spots.” 

Madara laughed despite himself. “Alright. Ghost and Spots it is.” 

“Can we take them outside?” 

“I think we should wait with that for a little bit,” he said gently, flopping one ear to the side when Ghost sniffed at him. “They’re still pretty sick. They have to get a little stronger still.” 

“Oh, okay.” She sounded disappointed, and Madara winced. 

“Why don’t we take the other three foxes out,” he offered. 

“Okay!” Smiling at her burst of excitement, he guided her out the room, closing the door quietly behind them after making sure the foxes had water. As they walked down the stairs back to the main floor, Ahsona hesitantly reached up, and took hold of two of his fingers, looking up at him as though to make sure it was okay. 

In response, to soothe her worries, Madara started purring loudly, swishing his tails back and forth. Ahsona looked delighted. 

Before walking outside, Madara whistled for his girls. They bounded towards him, and Nyx licked Ahsona’s cheek. The girl giggled, reaching out to pet her. They left the house, stepping out onto the streets, and Madara headed to Tobirama’s lab, hoping the Senju wasn’t working on something weird and terrifying. He didn’t want to frighten Ahsona. 

Considering this, he clicked his tongue three times, and Akiro nudged her head against his leg. “Go find Tobirama,” he said softly to her, rubbing her ears. “That way he’ll know we’re coming.” Akiro chirped quietly, licking his gloved fingers, and looped off to do just that. 

Watching her go, he continued leading Ahsona and the other two foxes down the street. There were a few people about, and they all paused to stare at the sight of him walking by with a child holding onto his hand, a child with ears and tails exactly like his, only a different colour. 

He glared at the ones who moved as though to approach him, ears flattening. Luckily, most of the villages were able to pick up on cues such as that, and left them alone. 

When they arrived at Tobirama’s lab, the door was half open. “We’re here,” he said to Ahsona. “Are you ready?” She nodded, and her hand tightened around his fingers. He gave her a reassuring purr, rubbing between her ears, and led her down into the lab. 

Tobirama and Mito were waiting when they descended the stairs, with Akiro curled up on the albinos lap. “Thanks for the heads up,” Tobirama said, as Akiro jumped down to trot towards Madara. “I put my experiment away, for now.” 

“Hello, Ahsona,” Mito greeted. The girl wrapped her other arm around Madara’s leg, half hiding behind him. 

“Hello, Mito-san, Tobirama-san…” Mito’s smile widened. 

“How are you feeling?” she asked kindly. “Have you eaten?” Ahsona nodded, and Madara snorted. 

“Of course she has,” he grumbled. 

“Just checking,” Mito said innocently, holding up a hand. 

“Your kimono is very pretty, Ahsona-chan,” Tobirama said quietly. 

“Thank you,” she said shyly, wiggling a little further into Madara. 

“So, what brings you here?” Tobirama asked, turning to fully face them. Madara’s tails swished. 

“Ahsona asked if she might grow more tails, like me,” he said. “I came to see if you might have any idea about any possible side effects of her…. uh, ordeal…” 

“I’ve been researching it,” Tobirama said, standing to stride over to another desk and pick up an enormous stack of papers. “I recovered some of the notes and reports on the experiments done at that facility, to see if I could put together anything concrete.” He handed the papers to Madara, and he took them, curiously thumbing through them. 

“As far as I can tell, Ahsona was the only successful experiment, and they wanted to run tests on her to figure out what it is about her that enables her to survive. Her body shows no sign of rejection of the fox DNA, which makes me think her Gekkai Kenkai may pertain to animals.” 

“That would make sense,” Madara agreed thoughtfully. “But if she already has some of the desired traits, is it possible for her to display more? Or change form from human to fox like I can?” 

“It’s a little different that you,” Tobirama said with a shrug. “Your changing abilities come from Kurama; pure, concentrated chakra. Her traits are purely natural. The mutations are done, and will likely not develop further. I think that how she is right now is how she’ll stay.” 

“I see.” 

“When she’s older, I can make her a seal that allows her to hide her tails and ears, if she wants,” Mito offered, and Madara sighed. 

“She’ll probably be going back to Suna soon,” he said regretfully. “In a week or so, she’ll be back home.” 

Ahsona made a distressed sound, arms wrapping tight around his legs. Automatically, Madara crouched, holding out his hands, and she burrowed into him, nose in his neck. He purred quietly, rubbing his cheek over her head again, trying to relax her. She was shaking, breathing shakily, like she might start crying. 

It took her a few minutes, but her whimpers started to quiet. She stayed curled into him, but moved to rub her cheek against his neck. 

“I thought so,” Tobirama said suddenly. Madara looked up as he pulled a stack of papers across his desk and made a note. 

“You thought what?” he asked, unable to stop his ears pricking up with interest. Tobirama hummed, finishing whatever he was writing before turning back. 

“With fox like traits come their characteristics and mannerisms,” he said, watching Ahsona for a moment. “I had a feeling she’d start scent marking you soon.” 

“Start what?” he asked, perplexed. Tobirama raised an eyebrow. 

“Scent marking. You know, the thing that your foxes do all the time? Rubbing their heads against each other?” 

“I’ve seen them do that,” he grumbled. “What of it?” 

“Foxes scent mark what they consider belongs to them,” Tobirama said, as if it were obvious. “They mark their pups, their mates, their territory. Kurama scent marked you all the time, you scent mark Hashirama and, now, Ahsona, and she’s doing the same to you. It’s a way to stake your claim on something or someone, telling everyone else that whatever it is you’ve marked is yours. It also appears to be a comforting thing, just like all those little purrs and chirps you’ve been making to her when she’s upset.” 

“I do not chirp,” Madara grumbled, tilting his head to let Ahsona burrow her face more closely against him. Mito smirked, and Tobirama’s red eyes gleamed with amusement. 

“You most definitely do.” 

“It’s cute,” Mito added. Madara glared at them, but didn’t snark back. They were probably right, the observant idiots. 

“Well, we should head back,” he said, rearranging Ahsona in his arms. “She could probably use something to eat, maybe a nap too….” 

“I’ll come by later,” Mito said, moving to put a hand on Tobirama’s shoulder. “I found some toys and books Ahsona might like. I’ll bring them for you.” 

“Alright. Thanks.” He glanced at Tobirama, nodding his head. The Senju nodded back, shuffling his papers. 

“I’ll keep looking into it. I’ll let you know if I find something else.” Madara nodded, straightening and whistling softly. His foxes hopped to their feet, following him out of the lab. Ahsona stayed in his arms, one hand fisted in his hair and the other in his collar, her face still smushed against his neck. 

Madara let her be, automatically purring quietly to her as they walked. “Shall we feed Ghost and Spots?” he asked as they got back home. Ahsona pulled away after a moment of deliberation. 

“Okay.” Madara set her down on her feet, pulling out the fox food in one of the kitchen cupboards. He dished out a small measure into two bowls, taking one and handing Ahsona the other. 

“Come, let’s see how they are.” Holding the bowl of food in both hands, Ahsona slowly followed him, concentrating hard to make sure she wouldn’t spill anything. Madara waited for her patiently. 

Ghost and Spots greeted them shyly. They seemed much more keen to Madara when he had his tails and ears out. But it would take them some time to fully warm up to him the way his other three had. They had likely been terribly treated before. 

“What should we have for lunch?” he asked Ahsona as they left the foxes to eat in peace. Ahsona’s tails curled behind her as she thought. 

“Miso soup,” she decided finally. Madara raised an eyebrow. 

“Again? Alright…” 

Luckily there was plenty left over from breakfast. Ahsona beamed, trotting down the stairs ahead of him to the kitchen. It pleased him to see her starting to be so relaxed and acting like a kid should. She was responding well to his attempts to bring her out of her shell. It probably had to do with the fact they both had fox traits. It made things much easier. If Ahsona were a regular little girl, it’d probably be a lot harder. 

Ahsona placed herself at the table, waiting eagerly while he heated the soup and dished it out. After a moment of consideration, he also pulled out some salty crackers for her. He himself didn’t eat, but he sat down anyways, watching her. Her ears were fully pricked, and her tails waving, more relaxed and content that he’d ever seen her. The thought sent a rush of pleased warmth through him. 

Hashirama came home when she was nearly done. “Hello,” he greeted, smiling widely and flicking one of Madara’s ears. He huffed irritably, and Hashirama laughed, leaning down to kiss his hair. 

“There’s soup on the stove if you want some,” he offered, trying and failing not to lean into his touch as he pet his head. 

“Gladly. Hello, Ahsona. How was your day?” 

Ahsona shyly looked up. “Good,” she said in a tiny voice. 

“That’s good,” Hashirama said, gently and brightly. “What did you all do?” 

She glanced at Madara, and he gave her an encouraging nod. “You can tell him, if you want,” he said, making sure to give her the option to say no. Ahsona considered it. 

“I picked some clothes,” she said quietly. “And we named the other foxes. And then we saw Tobirama and Mito-san.” 

“Oh wow, really?” Hashirama looked eagerly surprised. “What did you name the foxes?” 

‘Ghost and Spots,” she said proudly. 

“Those are very good names,” Hashirama praised, and Ahsona smiled shyly. 

“How are you feeling, Ahsona?” Madara asked, as Hashirama went to make himself some food. 

“Tired…” 

“Would you like to take a nap?” 

She nodded, and Madara stood, swooping down to pick her up. She hummed quietly, leaning against his neck and scent marking him. Now that he was aware of it, he realized it was something they both did a lot. He absentmindedly marked her back. 

It didn’t take long for her to fall asleep. He stayed with her until she had, humming under his breath and running his fingers through her sandy blonde hair, smoothing out the tangles and rearranging her natural ringlets. 

When her breaths evened out, he slipped quietly out of the room, rejoining Hashirama. “How was the office?” he asked, clearing Ahsona’s dishes. 

“Fine. I sent word to the other villages, with reassurance that the matter has been handled and those responsible have been dealt with. I sent news of Ahsona to Suna too.” 

“Did you say what happened to her?” 

Hashirama looked a little guilty. “Well...l... I mentioned that she had been experimented on, and that there were many side effects as a result. And that her condition is serious and will have life long considerations, and that she may have trouble adjusting to them and how much they’ll affect her. And that’s it’s highly likely her Gekkai Kenkai has either been taken from her, is locked away, or mutated somehow.” 

Madara leaned back, narrowing his dark eyes. “That’s a lot of negatives, Hashirama,” he said quietly, suspiciously. Hashirama looked a little more guilty, taking his hand and slowly nudging him to sit. 

“Yes, I know. I was kinda hoping to make the Kazekage think that taking her back would be too much of a strain on the village if her parents or other family aren’t nearby.” 

“Why would you do that? Don’t you want her to go home and be happy?” 

“Of course I want her to be happy!” Hashirama protested, squeezing Madara’s hands. “But I also want you to be happy, Madara. You and me both. I mean, I know I should have spoken to you before. But…..Mads, we’ve been together for months. And I’ve been thinking hard about it for a while and I think it’ll work. I’ve rarely seen you so calm and content before this. I was kinda thinking, and I know it’s only been two days, but what if we kept Ahsona? What if we raised her as our own?’ He brushed his thumb over Madara’s hand, and he stared at him, speechless. “We could start a little family of our own, you know….. you, me, the foxes, Ahsona…. maybe another little one further down the line. I’m sorry for springing this on you, and I know you’ll need some time to think about it, but I really think-“ 

Madara cut him over by seizing his collar and yanking him forward for a bruising kiss. He pulled back just as quickly, dark eyes meeting Hashirama’s startled ones. 

“I’d love that,” he whispered, fiercely and passionately. “You are perfect, idiot Senju.” He kissed him again, and Hashirama laughed, a little breathlessly. 

“You mean it?” he asked, pulling Madara a bit closer 

“As far as I’m concerned, Ahsona is already mine,” he said fiercely, and Hashirama grinned. 

“Then you’ll be pleased to know I offered the Kazekage to let Ahsona remain in Konoha, saying that her rescuer has grown very fond of her.” 

Madara purred, waving his tails, and then letting them fade away, letting him go back to normal. “I love you,” he informed, lifting his hands and running his fingers through his hair. Hashirama preened under his attention. 

“And I love you,” he hummed back. “I expect a response from Suna in three days.” 

“Can’t wait. But what if they want her back?” 

“We’ll handle that when we get there,” Hashirama said, kissing his temple. Madras hummed quietly, pushing aside his unease to enjoy the moment. 

~*~*~

Ahsona had woken for supper and was already back in bed for the night when Mito came by with her promised gifts. Her eyes were knowing as he and Hashirama put them away. She didn’t stay long, bidding them a quiet good night and melting away into the dark.

They organized the toys and books into piles for Ahsona to look at the next day. Hands on his hips, Madara surveyed the organized chaos. “I could get used to the mess,” Hashirama said, coming up behind him, arms circling his waist and chin resting on his shoulder. Madara snorted. 

“Not me. If this is going to happen, I refuse to let the place become a garbage dump.” Hashirama chuckled, pressing his lips against the side of his neck. 

“Yes sir.” He nudged Madara around to face him, pulling close enough to clasp his fingers together at the small of his back. Humming, Madara looped his arms around Hashirama’s neck, toying with a strand of his hair. 

“If we get custody,” he said quietly, “are we sure we want to do this? It’s a big change. It’ll take sacrifice.” 

“I’m ready to make that sacrifice,” Hashirama promised, and Madara raised an eyebrow. 

“Oh? Even a consistent sex life?” 

Hashirama pursed his lips, considering. “Eh, we’ll make it work,” he said finally, leaning in to kiss him. Madara smirked into it. 

“You’ll be tired all the time,” he said, as Hashirama’s kiss turned a little less innocent, lips dropping to suck a mark in his neck. “And speaking of time, you’ll have a lot less of it. And we have to cook more, and clean more, and-” 

“Madara,” Hashirama growled. “I’m trying to get you to sleep with me. Stop. Talking.” 

Madara laughed, but tilted his head back, giving Hashirama more access, and relented, giving his lover his full attention.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will they get to keep her?


	14. I'd Travel the World with You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trip to the desert. 
> 
> Also: #content (Mada and Hashi love bickering in bed)

Chapter 14

I’d Travel the World with You

~*~*~

Ahsona was staring very intently at Madara, so much so it made him a little uneasy. “Ahsona,” he said, after she didn’t take her eyes off him all during lunch. “What is it?” 

“Madara-san,” she whispered, almost sounding worried. “What is that on your neck? Were you hurt?” 

Madara blinked, lifting a hand to his neck. A very slight ache reminded him what was there, and he felt his cheeks heat up instantly. “Ah, no, no, Ahsona. It’s okay. Hashirama gave that to me.” 

“He hurt you?!” she asked, sounding scandalized. 

“No! No, Ahsona. It’s….um. Okay.” He racked his fingers through his hair, at a loss. “It’s a good thing. It doesn’t hurt.” 

“But what is it?” Ahsona persisted. Oh, boy. 

“It’s called a love bite,” he said finally. “And it’s okay. I’m not hurt.” 

“Oh. Okay.” Satisfied, Ahsona went back to her meal, and Madara adjusted his collar a little to cover the mark, inwardly cursing Hashirama and his enthusiasm for leaving marks all over him. “What are we doing today?” 

“I was thinking we could see Mito again,” Madara said, shrugging. He had most definitely been slacking off on his responsibilities in favour of looking after Ahsona, and he felt a little guilty about it. But until she was more comfortable around others, that’s the way it would be. Mito had offered to watch over Ahsona whenever he and Hashirama weren’t able to be around, so he was trying to get Ahsona used to her. 

“Okay!” she said brightly, and Madara sighed with relief. So far, it seemed to be working. Probably because the Uzumaki spoiled her rotten. It would probably be good to get out, anyways. The response from Suna hadn’t come yet; it was well over a week and a half late, and Madara felt jittery and anxious. “Can we take Ghosts and Spots with us too?” 

Madara leaned back in his chair, considering. The other two foxes’ condition had improved drastically over the past few days. Perhaps it was time for them to get out of the house. They were already running around the backyard with the other three. 

“Okay,” he said finally. “But then we should leave soon. So finish your food and we’ll go, okay?” Ahsona’s response was to shovel her food into her mouth even faster. Amused, Madara shook his head, whistling for the foxes. They came charging in from the backyard like their tails were on fire. 

“Calm down,” he scolded, patting Ghost and Calica. Nyx crept towards Ahsona, looking for food, and Madara reprimanded her with a sharp snap of his fingers. She slunk away, disappointed. 

“I’m done,” Ahsona said. Madara raised an eyebrow. 

“Oh, really? With half your plate on your face?” He leaned forward, wiping bits of rice from her cheeks. “Honestly, Ahsona…” 

“Sorry,” she said, sounding very unapologetic. Madara snorted. 

“Sure you are.” The moment he had finished cleaning her up, Ahsona jumped off her chair, sprinting to the living room with the foxes hot on her heels. “Stop running in the house!” Madara yelled after her, getting only a shriek of laughter in response. He sighed, cleaning away the dishes. 

When he came into the living room, he found her playing with all 5 foxes. “Well, are we going?” he asked, leaning against the door frame. 

“Yes!” She leaped to her feet, bounding towards him. Madara took a moment to appreciate how loud and bubbly she’d become. Hashirama’s influence, no doubt. While she was still a little afraid of the Senju, she seemed to be growing to like him. She talked to him, when Madara was there, and let him tuck her in the night. She still refused to let him dress or bathe her, but that’d come with time. Nearly gone was her shyness and fear. Madara suspected her young mind had regressed, blocking away her traumatizing experience. The mind of a child was truly brilliant. An adult would be shattered. 

“Come onnnn,” she whined, tugging at the fabric of his pants. 

“Yes, yes.” He let her take hold of his hand and pull him towards the doors. He whistled softly, and his foxes streamed after them, all orange and black and white. Spots hesitated at the door, having never been out onto the streets. 

“Come on, Spots,” he called. The fox eyed him warily for a moment, then trotted down the steps to join the girls. By now, people had heard all about what happened. Things didn’t stay a secret in Konoha for long. They greeted Madara and Ahsona, and the girl waved shyly to everyone she recognized. 

When they arrived at Mito’s house, the woman was sitting on the steps outside, looking prim and proper and pristine as usual. “Hey, Mito,” he greeted, striding up the stairs. 

“Hello Madara, Ahsona,” she responded, holding out her hand. Ghost licked her fingers, and she rubbed her ears. “How was your morning?” 

“Long. She woke up early.” 

“Poor you.” 

“Mito-san!” Ahsona gasped, stopping before the woman. Her voice dropped into a loud whisper. “Guess what?” 

“What?” Mito arched a thin red eyebrow, devoting her attention to the girl. 

“Hashirama-sama gave Madara a love bite!” 

The heat rushed right back into Madara’s face. “Ahsona!” he protested, hunching his shoulders in a useless attempt to hide the hickie on his neck. Mito had already seen it. 

“Oh, did he really now?” Mito asked, her voice amused, and Ahsona nodded eagerly. 

“Yeah!” 

“Ahsona,” Madara broke it, looking anywhere but at Mito. “We don’t go around telling people that, okay?” 

“But you said it was a good thing!” Ahsona protested, not understanding. Mito laughed as Madara’s face reddened further. 

“Thank you for telling me, Ahsona,” the Uzumaki snickered. “I’m glad to hear it.” 

“You’re welcome!” Ahsona said enthusiastically, pleased by Mito’s interest. 

“Mito, stop being a bad influence,” Madara protested, frowning down at her. 

“I’m not the one telling a 4 year old what a love bite is,” Mito pointed out. He had no dignified response to that, and lifted his nose disdainfully. 

“Excuse me, Madara-san,” a new voice said. They all turned to face the newcomer, and Madara recognized him as a young man who worked at the Hokage tower. 

“Kiyo,” he greeted. “What brings you here?” 

“Lord First has requested your presence,” the man said, bowing. “He says he has news.” Madara frowned, narrowing his eyes. 

“What kind of news?” The man shrugged. 

“He didn’t tell me anything, other than it's from Suna.” Madara froze at his words, dread and anticipation alike coiling through him. 

“Go,” Mito said. “Ahsona and your foxes can stay with me until you’re done.” 

“Are you sure?” Mito nodded, her sharp humor fading into something serious. “Ahsona,” he called, waving her over and crouching down in front of her. “I need to go see Hashirama. Can you stay with Mito and the foxes for a little bit?” 

Ahsona hesitated. “I have pokey sticks,” Mito offered, and her face lit up. 

“Yes!” Mito smiled, standing up and rearranging her robes neatly. 

“Don’t spoil her so much,” Madara complained, and Mito just smiled. 

“Go on already. We’ll be fine.” With a grumble, Madara allowed himself to be chased away, heading to the Hokage Tower with Kiyo. He entered Hashirama’s office without knocking, striding over to sit on the edge of his desk. 

“You summoned me, Lord First?” he drawled. Hashirama gave him a look, the same one he always did when he called him by any one of his titles. Annoyance, mixed with heat. It was one of Madara’s favorite things to call him that in bed. 

“I did.” He leaned back in his chair. “The Kazekage got back to me, which is why I summoned you.” 

“And?” Madara demanded impatiently, annoyed at Hashirama taking so long. The Senju’s face was serious. 

“And Suna has agreed to let Ahsona stay with us.” 

Relief rocked over him so strong it surprised him. “Hashirama!” he scolded, standing up and grabbing his collar. “Don’t say things in that voice! You had me worried!” 

Hashirama laughed. “Sorry, sorry. I couldn’t resist.” He tugged at Madara, urging him to let go of his collar, and instead threading their fingers together. “Ahsona is from a small clan, one nearly died out. The only surviving members are her and her grandmother. Unfortunately, her grandmother, who looked after Ahsona ever since her parents died, is ailing. Apparently they were already struggling to find a place for Ahsona. As for her Gekkai Kenkai, it’s rather unremarkable, so they won’t miss it. There is a condition, though.” 

“And that is?” Hashirama gazed up at him, and smiled. 

“Her grandmother wants to see her once more, and meet her rescuer, the man that’ll be adopting her.” 

“You’re adopting her too,” he pointed out. 

“Yeah, but you’re the one who saved her. Besides, I can’t just leave for a week or so. It’s better if you take her.” 

Madara gazed down at him, lifting a hand to toy with a strand of the Senju’s hair, as had become his habit lately. “And you’re okay with us going?” Hashirama sighed. 

“I’ll miss you, but I’m sure I’ll manage.” 

“Let’s hope so.” Hashirama grinned, pulling him a little closer. 

“Although, I’ll want to have something to remember while you’re gone,” he drawled. “Help me make some memories tonight?” 

“Hashirama,” he groaned, and he laughed. 

“What? It’s a reasonable request!” 

“Fine, whatever. But stop leaving marks in such obvious places!” He pointed at his neck. “Ahsona thought you had hurt me. When I told her it was just a little love bite, she went and told Mito and I do not need the Uzumaki holding that over my head.” 

Hashirama laughed, loud and hearty. “I won’t,” he promised. “At least, not tonight.” 

Madara groaned at his grin, pulling free and marching out the door. But even Hashirama’s antics couldn’t stop a delighted smile crossing his face. 

~*~*~

Ahsona was excited to hear she’d be seeing her grandmother. Or her “Nano,” as she called her. They made plans to leave the next morning. “I’m taking Calica with us,” Madara said, after Ahsona had been put to bed and her bags packed. “She’s the biggest and she’s protective of Ahsona. She should also help Ahsona be a little less nervous, if she ever is.” 

“Good choice,” Hashirama agreed, setting Ahsona’s bag down on the floor by the door. “And you don’t need to tell me what to do with the others. I know them by now.” 

Madara sighed. “I know. Just make sure Spots eats all his food. He’s still a little skinny.” 

“Yes, yes. Stop worrying, Mads! You’ve become such a worry-wart.” Madara wrinkled his nose at him. 

“I have not.” 

“Yes, you kinda have.” Madara glared at him, arms crossing over his chest. 

“Fight me, Hashirama,” he growled. The Senju grinned, prowling closer. 

“I’d much rather love you,” he said lowly, leaning in to kiss under his jaw, moving up to take the shell of his ear between his teeth. “Can I?” 

“I already said you could,” Madara huffed, shivering at his warm breath on his skin. 

“Good, because I fully intend on having you fulfill that promise.” He pushed Madara’s shoulder, nudging him towards the bed and at the same time undressing him. Madara pushed off his Hokage robe and belt, and by the time they were stumbling onto the mattress, they were in various states of undress. 

Hashirama groaned when he raked his nails down his bare chest, catching a nipple hard. He pushed Madara’s knee to the side, slotting himself between his legs and rocking his hips down. Madara moaned, tilting his head back, and the Senju instantly attached his lips to his throat. 

“No marks!” Madara snapped, when he started to bite and suck. The Senju grumbled, reluctantly moving his mouth down to his chest instead. He bit down hard on his collarbone, and he inhaled sharply, lifting a hand to his mouth pressing it firmly against his lips. 

“Let me hear you, Mads,” Hashirama reprimanded, pulling his hand away. Madara glared at him. 

“Ahsona is right next door,” he snapped, quietly. Hashirama grinned. 

“She didn’t hear us the other night. And you were practically screa-”

“Stop it!” Madara surged up, yanking him down and kissing him to shut him up. He hated it when Hashirama retold their time together. It was embarrassing, and the Senju seemed to take great pleasure in it. 

“I’m just saying,” Hashirama muttered, pouting a little. Easily depressed idiot. With a sigh, Madara hooked his legs around his waist, fisting his hands in his hair. 

“How about, instead of thinking about old memories, you make due on your promise to make new ones?” he challenged. Hashirama’s eyes darkened. 

“Gladly.” He swooped down, enthusiastically kissing him, and Madara hummed, reaching under the pillows for the familiar bottle of oil there. Hashirama took it from him, coating his fingers with it. “You know, I still want to see you do this to yourself,” he said, lowering his hand and, without any teasing, slid one finger in. 

Madara squirmed, closing his eyes and inhaling sharply. “One day,” he said distractedly. Hashirama grumbled. 

“I thought about making you do it today,” he commented. “But now that we’re here, I don’t think I can wait that long. I KNOW you’d draw it out, just to be a miserable tease.” 

“Obviously.” He exhaled shakily, biting his lip when Hashirama inserted a second finger, spreading his fingers in a scissoring motion. “Maybe when I get back. I’ll give you something to look forward to.” 

“After you’ve been gone for so long, you expect me to wait for you to tease me?” He shoved in a third finger, curling and twisting them mercilessly. Madara whined, arching his back. 

“Maybe I’ll tie you down again,” he panted breathlessly. “And I think that you’d let me.” Hashirama crooked his fingers, reveling in his lover's quiet moan. 

“Maybe I would. I do like to see you being all bossy and demanding.” Madara glared up at him. 

“I’m about to get real demanding if you don’t GET ON WITH IT!” 

“So impatient…” Hashirama leaned down, distracting him with a sloppy kiss, nipping at his upper lip, and very purposefully rolling his wrist to stimulate him a little more. Madara groaned, eyes slipping shut again. He continued to finger him for a while, until he was sure he was ready. 

“I’m going to kill you if you don’t hurry up,” Madara snarled, all sharp words and eyes and nails. They dug into his back, breaking the skin. The pain was familiar, and he had started to equate the specific pain with pleasure. Hashirama groaned, pressing his face against his shoulder, biting down and slipping his fingers free. He hastily slicked himself up, nuding his lovers legs a little further apart. 

“If you killed me I wouldn’t be able to please you,” he pointed out, sliding all the way in with a single hard thrust. Madara’s nails dug deeper and his breath hitched. 

“Well, then maybe I’ll just cut your dick off,” Madara threatened, trying not to sound breathless and failing. “That’s the only part I need.” 

“You just love to complain, don’t you?” Hashirama grumbled, planting his hands on the bed above his shoulders, pulling back and thrusting in again. Madara grunted quietly. 

“I have lots to complain about,” he snarked. Why he took so much delight in being mouthy and bitchy when they slept together was beyond him. He moved one hand down to his hip, pulling him back to meet his next thrust. Madara hissed, eyes screwing shut with pleasure. “Maybe I wouldn’t even go through the effort of cutting it off,” he continued, still insisting on his little tirade. “Maybe I’d just find one of those places that sells something similar and use that to satisfy myself.” 

Hashirama faltered, hips stuttering and looking down at him with wide eyes. Madara smirked back, well aware his claws had sunk in deep and stayed there. Hashirama groaned, closing his eyes and imaging just how that would look. “Can we do that sometime?” he asked feverishly, frantically resuming his movements. Madara moaned, moving one hand to rank his nails down his chest, looping his legs around him again and encouraging him to move faster, harder. 

“Are you into that, Hashirama? It sure seems like it. You don’t even need to be touching me. You just want to watch me. That’d be enough for you, wouldn’t it?” 

“It might be,” Hashirama breathed, pulling him back hard to meet his next thrust. Madara choked, his taunts stopping as Hashirama redoubled his efforts. “One day,” Hashirama said in between pants. “I’m going to do every single thing I’ve ever wanted to do to you.” 

“All in one day? Knowing you, that’s a lot of fantasies.” Hashirama frowned down at him, and Madara smirked back, nuding his back with his heel. “Don’t try denying it. That’s just who you are.” 

“I’m so lucky I have someone so understanding,” Hashirama bit back, half serious and half sarcastic. He leaned down, taking a nipple between his teeth and biting. Madara snarled, clawing at him. 

“Bloody right you are,” he growled. With a swift movement, he rolled them over, frustrated with Hashirama’s pace, and rocking down onto him. The Senju groaned, then scowled at him, and turned them over again. 

“Stop it,” he scolded, pressing Madara’s hands next to his head and thrusting hard. 

“Why? I thought you liked me above you?” He bucked his hips up, planting his feet to aid him. Hashirama hissed in his ear, having a hard time resisting the urge to bite his neck. He settled for gripping his hips so tight they’d bruise dark and pretty. 

“I do. But I’m a little tired of your snark right now.” 

“Aw, I thought you liked it.” 

“Sometimes. Not today.” Dedicating himself and refusing to be distracted anymore, Hashirama set to work, hard and steady, until Madara wasn’t able to string together his biting comments. They finished together, intense and satisfying. 

Hashirama slumped over top of Madara, still inside of him, breathing hard in the crook of his neck. “That was pretty good,” the Uchiha admitted. Hashirama beamed, pleased. He always liked it when his lover complimented him. Very purposefully, Hashirama wiggled, shifting his hips from side to side, and Madara gasped, overstimulated and sensitive. 

“Stop,” he groaned, squeezing his eyes shut. “Unless you have it in you for another round.” His words alone were enough to pique his interest, and he lifted his head, looking down at Madara’s flushed face. 

“Really?” Madara raised an eyebrow. 

“Sure.” With a grin, Hashirama enthusiastically swept down to capture his lips in a passionate kiss to do just that.

~*~*~

He was more sore than he wanted to admit the next day. And a little cranky. But Hashirama was very nearly glowing beside him, utterly sated from last night. Madara regretted it a little, just because he had a long journey ahead of him. 

“We’ll be back in a week,” he said, holding back a yawn. Hashirama hummed, his arm warm around his waist. “Don’t get into too much trouble.” 

“I’d never.” 

“Bullshit.” 

“Language, Mads, there’s young ears present.” Grinning, Hashirama crouched down in front of Ahsona. “Take care of him, okay? I’ll see you soon!” 

“Bye, Hashirama,” Ahsona said shyly. After a moment of hesitation, she stepped forwards, giving him a quick hug. They had already been wished safe travels by Mito and Tobirama and a number of other villagers. Hashirama saw them off at the gates. 

“Bye, Ahsona.” He tussled her hair playfully, and stood, reaching out to tug Madara closer and kissing him sweetly. “Take care, Madara. I’ll miss you.” 

“I know.” He bit back what he really wanted to say. There were young ears present. “See you soon.” He pulled back, patting Ahsona on the head, and shifted into the fox. Hashirama crouched, picking up Ahsona and settling her on his back. 

“Safe travels,” he said, squeezing her knee. Madara bumped his head against his chest, stepping back and turning away. Calica trotted at his feet, following him excitedly as they left. Konoha soon faded away into the distance. 

“”Hold on tightly,” Madara said to Ahsona, and she gripped his fur tight. This wasn’t the first time she had ridden on his back, and knew just how to hold on tightly without pulling his fur too hard. He chirped quietly to Calica, and took off running, blazing towards Suna. 

~*~*~

It took three days to leave the borders of the Land of Fire and cross into the desert. If Madara had been alone, they could have made it sooner. But Ahsona and Calica had to rest, and he wasn’t going to deny them that. 

About an hour from Suna, Madara swept his hair into a high ponytail, making himself look a little more presentable before reaching the Sand Village. He wasn’t nervous, exactly. Just a little anxious. It was no good puting it off. He combed his fingers through Ahsona’s hair, straightening her blue and gold kimono before shifting back into a fox, crouching down to let her climb onto his back. 

They went a lot slower now. Calica was tired, and so was Ahsona. Hard running was out of the question. Instead, they set their pace at a quick trot. The enormous wall surrounding Suna was soon in sight. Madara had to admit he was impressed. Sunagakure’s defensive wall was much more impressive than Konoha’s, and harder to get through. 

Cautiously, he trotted through the narrow gap in the wall. On the other side was a small group. His welcoming party. They startled when they saw him, instinctively reaching for their weapons. He growled quietly, lowering his head. The lead shinobi stopped when she saw Ahsona. “Wait!” she said to her companions. “It’s our guests from Konoha!” 

Eyeing them, Madara crouched, rolling his shoulders to get Ahsona to slide off his back. He straightened, and shifted back into a human. Ahsona immediately grabbed the bottom of his sleeve. 

“It’s you?!” one of the Sand shinobi yelped. 

“Uchiha Madara?” another asked, surprised. “If the Kazekage knew it was you coming, he would be here to greet you himself.”

“It’s not matter. It wasn’t advertised,” Madara said stiffly. There was a reason he hadn’t let Hashirama inform the Kazekage it was him coming. He didn’t want a welcoming party, or hostile glares. “I’m not here to discuss business. I’ve only come to see Ahsona’s grandmother.” 

“Yes, of course,” the first shinobi said. “Lord Kazekage asked us to bring you to her right away. Please, come with us.” Ahsona gripped his hand, and Madara hummed softly. Clicking his tongue to Calica, they followed their escort into the village. 

It wasn’t overly pretty. It was all orange and brown and sandy. Boring. He was surprised that he missed the obnoxiously bright colours of Konoha. Everything here just seemed so….drab. Lifeless. He wrinkled his nose in distaste. 

A few people stopped to gawk at them as they walked by. Sometimes, having a feared reputation was annoying. Or perhaps they were staring at Ahsona, with her ears and three tails. Or maybe it was them both. 

The first shinobi introduced herself as Kushiya, but the others didn’t. Madara didn’t blame them for being wary. Kushiya showed no fear whatsoever. She chatted animatedly as they walked, pointing out interesting creatures and birds. Madara hummed politely to everything she said, a little grateful for her distraction. 

“Well, here we are,” Kushiya said, stopping in front of an unremarkable little house near the center of the village. “Her name is Yui, in case you didn’t know.” 

“I didn’t,” Madara confirmed. Kushiya grinned, lifting a hand and rapping sharply on the door.

“We’ll be just over here if you need us,” she said, waving to the other shinobi and heading off to wait a few buildings down. Madara watched them go, then looked down when Ahsona squeezed his hand excitedly. 

After a few long moments, the door finally swung open. A tiny old woman, her hair stark white, her back hunched, and her face thin, stood on the other side. “Nano!” Ahsona shrieked, leaping at the old lady. Madara grabbed her before she could make contact. 

“Easy, Ahsona,” he scolded. “Be gentle.” 

“Sorry.” She looked up at the old woman, who held out a shaky hand to her to take. 

“Thank you, young man,” she said raspily. “I’m afraid I cannot quite keep up with my grandchild anymore.” 

“Do not thank me, Yui-sama,” Madara said, bowing. The ancient woman smiled. 

“Do not bow, young one. Come, come. I have been readying tea. You must be tired after such a journey.” 

“That’s kind of you,” Madara said, hesitantly stepping in after she moved aside for him. 

“Pretty fox you have,” she said. “Bring it in too.” 

“Thank you. Calica, come.” Panting, the fox followed at his heels. Moving like molasses, Yui directed them to the living room. Ahsona was talking a mile a minute, telling her Nano all about Konoha and Madara and Hashirama and Tobirama and Mito and anyone else she could think of. 

Amused, Madara helped Yui make tea, and gave Calica some much needed water. The fox curled up next to him when they finally settled to drink and chat. Madara stayed quiet for the most part, listening to Ahsona ramble, her tails and ears flicking excitedly. Yui listened with a patient smile. 

When the girl finally blew off some steam, the woman touched one of her ears. “Uchiha Madara,” she said, thoughtful. “I never thought someone like you would be the one to rescue my granddaughter.” Madara shifted his weight restlessly, unsure of how to respond to that. “Nevertheless, I am grateful. Lord Kazekage told me what happened to my Ahsona-chan. Thank you, for saving her, and looking after her.” 

“It was my pleasure, Yui-sama,” he said honestly. The ancient woman smiled. 

“I don’t think I’ll be around much longer,” she continued, watching Ahsona play with Calica. “And I hear you wish to keep Ahsona as your own.” 

Well, she certainly cut straight to the point. Madara respected that. “With your permission, Yui-sama, and if Ahsona agrees. I would never ask her to do something she does not want, and if you are uncomfortable with the idea, I will respect that as well.” 

Yui gave him a long look, then glanced at her granddaughter. “This will be the last time I see her,” she said wearily. “I want what is best for her. With someone like you to raise and protect her, I can be assured that she will be safe. And I believe she will be happy.” She set down her mug tiredly. “Ahsona,” she called, beckoning the girl over. “Would you like to stay with Madara now? With him and his foxes?” 

“Yeah!” Ahsona said, squealing with delight. Yui smiled. 

“Okay. Then you can. Can you tell me something?” 

“What?” Yui touched her hair fondly. 

“Why do you like Madara-san so much?” 

Ahsona brightened. “He’s very nice. And very pretty. And he looks like me!” Yui glanced at Madara. 

“He doesn’t look like you, silly child.” 

“Yes, he does!” Ahsona insisted. “He had ears and tails like me!” Yui looked at Madara again. 

“Are you sure? I don’t see them…” 

“He can hide them!” She turned to Madara, pulling at his hand instistantly. “Show her!” she demanded. Madara raised an eyebrow at her, then looked at Yui. She looked just as expectant as her granddaughter. 

“Okay,” Madara said after a moment. He blinked slowly, focusing. With a familiar itch, his ears and tails grew in. Stirring, Calica absentmindedly batted at the tail nearest to her. 

“9 tails,” Yui said, gazing at him. Madara moved a little, so his tails weren’t so compressed. As he did, he breathed in, and the scent of death washed over him, powerful to his now sensitive nose. He froze, looking over at Yui with wide eyes, and inhaled again, deep and purposeful to confirm. 

The old lady looked sad at his shocked expression. “Yui-sama,” he breathed. 

“Do you understand now why I wished to see her one last time?” she asked quietly. “Come here, Madara Uchiha.” She beckoned to him, and he slowly slid off the couch, sitting on his knees in front of her, tails resting limply on the ground. 

“Ahsona and I are the last of our clan, but with me, our line will die,” she said. “It brings me great honour to have my last surviving family member brought into the clans of the Uchiha and the Senju. I will pass tonight or tomorrow.” She ran her ancient, wrinkled fingers down his cheeks, cupping his face. “I give you my blessing, child. May you and your clan and your family be blessed and fruitful.” Her dark eyes twinkled. “And if you will listen to an old woman's wisdom, then hear this. If you love him, put a ring on him.” 

Despite himself, Madara blushed slightly. “Thank you, Yui-sama,” he whispered. The old woman smiled.

“I have some things I wish to impart to Ahsona. And I thank you for saving and protecting her, and I know you will continue to do so in the future. You seem a good man, Madara Uchiha, and kinder than you try to appear.” Her withered thumbs moved up, running over the shadows over his eyes, and she smiled. Leaning forward, she kissed him on the forehead, brushing his bangs out of the way. 

“You honour me and my clan with your blessing,” he said quietly. 

“As you have honoured me,” she replied, letting go of him. He leaned back, and Yui beckoned to Ahsona. 

“Beloved child,” she said, wrapping her frail arms around her. “You are going to go to Konoha, my dear. You will be raised and protected by the leaders of two of the greatest clans our world has seen. They will be your parents, and you will be their child. Respect them, obey them, love them, and care for them. Okay?” 

Ahsona nodded solemnly, and Yui kissed her on the head, just as she had with Madara. The sight made him look away. 

~*~*~

They stayed for her funeral. Ahsona was very quiet, sober. Like she had a greater understanding of death than he thought. They stayed even after everyone else left, standing before the mound of dirt and the fresh headstone. 

Ahsona was the first to move. She pet Calica softly, then reached up to take his hand. She waited until he looked down at her, and leaned against his leg. “I think that it might be time to go home, daddy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeaaaaahhhh, they get to keep her <3   
> Also so many ideas I can't use em all


	15. Twisted Desire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I just like to see Madara suffer. A mistake of his past comes back to stalk him

Chapter 15

~*~*~

The first time Ahsona called Hashirama ‘Dad’, he cried. The first time she called Tobirama ‘Uncle’ and Mito ‘Auntie’, the albinos expressionless face dropped in surprise, and the Uzumaki smiled more sincerely than Madara had ever seen. 

Ghost and Spots fit into his pack well. So well, in fact, that Nyx was discovered to be heavy with kits. “At least they keep the same mate,” Madara said to Hashirama, sighing at the thought of even more foxes running around. “So Nyx and Spots are a pair now. Good for them.” 

“We’re gonna have baby foxes,” Hashirama nearly squealed, excited. 

“They’re just foxes,” Madara grumbled, but he was looking forward to it too. 

A short while after they officially adopted Ahsona, Kurama came to visit, taking them all by surprise when he swaggered into the village, shrunk down to the size of a horse. Madara was out with his foxes when he arrived. Unable to help himself, he shifted down into the fox, and lunged at the Tailed Beast in delight. 

The Kyuubi growled playfully at him, running his snout over his spine. Scent marking him, Madara now realized. He purposefully brushed his cheek against Kurama’s chest in response. “I hear you’ve been busy, pup,” he rumbled, looking down at Madara’s foxes gathered around him. Madara shrugged his furry shoulders, not yet removing himself from Kurama’s side. 

“It’s instinct,” he said simply. 

“I am glad to see you building your pack,” he rumbled back. “And I hear you found a kit of your own.” 

“Does that make you a grandfather,” Madara wondered, purposefully evading the question hidden behind his words. Kurama rumbled, either in amusement or irritation. 

“Do watch your tongue, whelp.” Madara snorted, flicking his tails. 

“What are you even doing here?” 

“Visiting my favorite kit.” 

“I’m an adult, for Sages sake, Kurama.” 

“When you live to be as old as I, everyone is a kit.” Madara growled, stepping away and nudging an overly curious Spots away. 

“Would you like to come back with me? I have someone I think you might want to meet.” Kurama hummed lowly. 

“Yes, I thought there might be. Do lead the way.” With a quiet purr, Madara started back down the street at a trot, chirping for his foxes. They made quite a sight walking down the street: a horse sized 9 Tailed Beast, a black, 9 tailed fox, and 5 slightly larger than normal foxes running along with them. 

Madara led them all to the backyard right away, barking loudly to summon the rest of his pack. Ahsona was the first one to come, bolting outside and skidding to a halt when she saw Kurama sitting in the middle of the yard. Hashirama staggered after her, evidently surprised at her sudden dash outside. 

“Oh, hello Kurama!” he greeted cheerfully. Madara paced up to him, shifting back into a human, but keeping his tails and ears. “Where have you been?” He reached for Madara, automatically lacing their fingers together. 

“Here and there,” Kurama said, orange eyes fixed on Ahsona, hiding half behind Hashirama. “Who is this?” 

“Her name is Ahsona,” Madara said. “We adopted her recently.” 

“I heard about your little rampage when you found her,” Kurama said, giving him a look. “Very well done.” 

“Thanks.” 

Kurama crouched down onto his belly, staring at Ahsona and sniffing. “I never expected there to be such far reaching consequences of your shifting talents,” he said lowly. “Those you killed are not the only ones who have been trying to imitate you.” 

Madara froze at his words. “What?” 

“There have been no kidnappings or experiments,” Kurama said darkly. “But there is research going into it. However, most have reached a block. I have not come for a social visit, kit. I’ve come to warn you. You may have a lot of company soon.” 

“Why?” Hashirama demanded, curling a protective arm around Madara’s waist. 

“Apparently, having a blood sample may help these people figure out how to make it work in others,” Kurama said. “Guard yourself well, Madara. You and your daughter. Her change is not quite so pure, so valuable, as yours. But she is also a rarity. Protect your pack.” 

“How do you know all of this?” Madara asked, and the fox gave him a look. 

“I have ears in many places, and friends in just as many. I’ve been looking into this matter for a long time. However, I do not have to tact or the reach to destroy them all. A number of them have already fallen to my claws, but there are more of them out there.” 

Madara leaned back against Hashirama, one hand dropping to rest on Ahsona’s head. This hadn’t been what he was expecting. 

“So, wait.” He pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers, thoughts racing. “You’re saying that people may come after us, to get some samples of blood or whatever, and try to replicate our look?” 

Kurama nodded. “I’m sure you experienced this already, Madara. Some people think you are physically appealing in your current form.” He nodded at his tails and ears, and Madara glanced down worriedly at Ahsona. “Speak to your Uzumaki friend. Get your kit a seal to hide her unique qualities. Perhaps no one will come for her then.” 

“But they may still come for Madara,” Hashirama said faintly. 

“Madara can take care of himself,” Kurama said with a shrug. “I’d be more worried about those that come after him.” 

Madara hummed, narrowing his eyes. “Does my reputation not precede me?” he asked, a little bit irritated. 

“Of course it does. Apparently that makes you a more desirable conquest. Men will do anything for money. Even risk their lives.” Hashirama’s hand tightened almost painfully around him. 

“No one is going to touch you. Either of you.” His voice dropped to a low growl, and Madara elbowed him, unimpressed. 

“Relax. Of course they aren’t. This will be easy enough to fix.” 

“How?” Hashirama demanded, frowning down at him. Madara grinned sharply. 

“A few people ripped apart or burnt or otherwise painfully killed will sway the vast majority of them.” 

“True. But what about the rest?” 

“I have some...friends… handling a few of them,” Kurama said. “Some of the larger, more dangerous groups.” 

“Thanks, Kurama,” Madara said, relieved. As much as he liked fighting, he didn’t want to risk Ahsona’s life or freedom for it. The fox smirked. 

“I look after my own. By extension, that includes your mate and pack.” He stood up, bumping his snout against Madara’s chest, pressing something against it. It was a necklace, with a large, orange jewel. “I won’t be far. If you need me, I can be summoned with this.” 

Madara examined the gem, and lifted the chain over his head, letting it fall over his neck. “I owe you one, Kurama.” 

“Maybe you did once. This is not a favour for you.” The fox snorted, lifting his head haughtily. “Can you imagine how my reputation would plummet if one I claimed as my own were taken from me? How humiliating.” 

“Sure, Kurama,” Madara said with an amused smirk. The fox eyed him, and rubbed his nose between his ears. 

“See you later, brat.” With a final look down at Hashirama and Ahsona, he turned around, bounding over the fence, and was gone. 

“Huh,” Madara said after a minute, breaking the silence. Ahsona let go of him to play with the foxes. “I wasn’t expecting that.” 

“Neither,” Hashirama said darkly. Maara glanced up at him, frowning ever so slightly. 

“You okay?” Hashirama gave him a look. 

“I was just told that the man I love is in danger,” he said. “How am I supposed to be okay?”

“It’ll be fine, Hashirama,” Madara soothed, putting a gloved hand on his chest, and reverting his ears and tails. “Have you forgotten? You are the only one who can beat me. Between the two of us, who could stand?” 

Hashirama considered this, then nodded. “I suppose I’ve just grown a little more careful since we made peace between our clans,” he said, and Madara smirked. 

“A little more cautious and a little more protective,” he agreed. “Sage help whoever dares raise a hand against our daughter.” 

Hashirama smiled, fond and dark at the same time. “Indeed.” 

~*~*~ 

Madara was unimpressed with all the attempts so far. The first one had been a group of 4 men. They were dead within seconds, one’s mind broken in a vicious genjutsu, the other three burned to nothing. The next group, 6 this time, tried to go after Ahsona when she was out with the pack. The foxes ripped them to shreds, and Madara couldn’t help but feel violently proud of them. He made sure to give them lots of affection and treats after that, feeling they deserved the spoils. 

Hashirama was a little disturbed by their savagery, but relieved at the same time. It didn’t take much for Madara to assure him they were merely protective of Ahsona. She was part of the pack, after all. 

The next attempt, Madara didn’t even have to raise a finger, as he was with Hashirama at the time. The sight had led to one of their more passionate nights together, that left Madara stiff and sore for days afterwards. 

After the next few attempts were thwarted, by either he or Hashirama or Tobirama or Mito or anyone else in the village, they slowed down drastically. They grew more planned, more smart. More challenging. 

Not long after Kurama’s warning, Nyx had her kits, 7 of them. Ahsona was ecstatic, trying to stay with them as much as she could. It took a lot of work to convince her to leave the new fox family in peace. 

Madara was glad she had something to distract her. She liked to stay home more now, snuggling with the kits whenever she could. He started spending more time away from home, and always had either Mito or Tobirama or a trusted member of the Senju or Uchiha clan stay with her when he and Hashirama were away. 

He wasn’t nervous, exactly. Just wary. And only for Ahsona. He didn’t want her to ever go through that kind of torture again. So maybe he was a little more on edge. It was always a relief when Kurama came to report his findings. His latest one threw him for a loop. 

“One man?” Hashirama said, incredulous. “All of this can be traced to one man?” 

Kurama nodded. “He’s obsessed,” the 9 Tails said, waving his tails in agitation. “And he’s powerful, rich enough not only to send dozens of men after you, but also to fund the research, pay for supplies, and pay everyone to keep their silence.” 

“There’s not many men with that kind of power,” Madara commented, watching Ahsona run in the backyard with Ghost and Calica. “I can’t even think of anyone.” 

“Me neither,” Hashirama said worriedly. “Have you been able to find out anything else, Kurama?” 

The 9 Tails shook his head. “No. The slime covers his tracks well. Next time someone comes for you, try and get something out of them. I’m not good at not killing anyone.” 

“We’ll do our best,” Madara said dryly. Kurama nodded, and took off to do some more hunting. Hashirama curled around Madara from behind, resting his chin on his shoulder. 

“How did our lives come to this?” he wondered with a heavy sigh. “This is frustrating.” 

“Tell me about it,” Madara replied absentmindedly. “It’s really starting to annoy me.” 

“Me too.” They watched Ahsona play in silence for a while. 

“Who could this person be?” Madara wondered. “Why is he so invested in...whatever he’s doing?”

“Rarity holds value,” Hashirama reminded. 

“But to go to such extremes,” Madara protested. “It’s madness.” Hashirama hummed softly. 

“I know. I wish I could tell you Mads. I really do.” 

Madara sighed. “If we knew who this guy was we could track him down and end all of this at once.” 

“So, now we know it’s important to keep one of our next unexpected guests alive.” 

~*~*~

It was the middle of the night when it happened. Things had been quiet for a while. Hashirama was working a late night at the office, with Tobirama and Mito helping him, going over a draft for a potential alliance. 

Ahsona protested going to bed for hours, begging to play with Nyx’s kits. It was hard to convince her otherwise, but he finally managed to wrestle her to bed. Seeing no reason to stay awake, Madara turned in soon after. 

He woke with a start a little past 1, his senses flaring. At first, he thought Hashirama had come home. The unease filtering through him told him otherwise. Cautiously, he closed his eyes, carefully reaching out with his senses. Ahsona and his foxes flared brightly at him, just as they usually did. 

It was the presence of a dozen other chakra signatures in his daughter's room that had his heart stopping. He remained stock still for a second, calming himself down. Panic would do absolutely nothing helpful. He stood quietly, tossing on his clothes from yesterday and looking around for his sword. He swore softly. 

Downstairs. Of course it was. 

He shifted halfway, tails and ears and fangs and claws. His chakra bristled beneath his skin, as angry and restless as he was. Carefully, he reached out again, confirming his fears. He swallowed thickly, and silently crept out of his room, taking the few steps down the hall to Ahsona’s room. 

How did he not notice this sooner? 

He stopped before entering, drawing up his chakra. Smoke started wisping up from his skin, and flames licked at his fingers, warm and pleasant, not burning, but serving. 

Gathering himself, he burst into the room with a snarl, flaming claws ripping into the throat of the man closest to him. So sudden was his arrival that his next kill couldn’t even turn around before he was on him with a savage snarl. Before his body had even hit the ground, Madara set fire to another, and broke the neck of the next. 

Bloodlust raged up in him, and he pounced on a man wielding two short swords, sinking his claws into his abdomen and ripping out a few organs. The man started screaming, agonized, and Madara stepped on his neck to break it swiftly. 

He kicked another man so hard in the chest his sternum and several ribs broke. He wheezed horribly as a broken rib pierced his lung, collapsing to his knees, clutching at his throat. Like that would help. 

Snorting in disdain, he flared his tails wide like a fan, successfully knocking down another 3. He had become quite proficient at fighting in his half shifted form. He wanted to be good so he could teach it to Ahsona when she was old enough. The fire on his hands flared, and he absentmindedly lit another man on fire, so hot and swift that he dissolved into a pile of ash in seconds. 

“Stop!” a man bellowed. Madara whirled about with a hiss, all 9 tails bristled and flared, and froze. 

Ahsona gazed at him with terror, her tiny hands fisted in her white sleep shirt. A man stood behind her, holding a sparking hand next to her, just over her heart. Electricity. More than strong enough to fry his little girl. 

Madara growled quietly. 

“Loose the flames,” the man ordered. “And raise your hands.” His hand moved a little closer. Madara was fast, but electricity was faster. If he made even a move to attack, the man could electrocute his daughter before he took a step. 

The heat of his flames died out, and he lifted his hands. He was furious, and didn’t doubt his ability to take them all down. But his daughter came first. The man behind her smirked. 

“On your knees, Uchiha.” Madara curled his lip at him, but obeyed wordlessly, hands still up to his head. “Good,” the man praised, like he was a child. Or a dog. “Bind his hands,” the man said to a companion. “Make sure he can’t make any signs.” 

The man he spoke to hesitated, then approached cautiously. Madara glanced down at the rope in his hands. Infused with chakra suppressors. Of course. 

The man grabbed one of his wrists, started to tie the rope around it, and Madara caught his eye. His Sharingan blazed, and the man collapsed, writing, foaming at the mouth, mind destroyed. 

“Don’t look into his eyes, idiots!” the first man nearly bellowed. “Kosae, blindfold him!” Madara turned, fully intending to ensnare this man in a mind breaking genjutsu too, but black cloth wound around his head before he could, covering his eyes. His wrists were bound tightly behind his back. 

Well, this was a predicament. He felt his chakra fading away, shoved down by the chakra suppressing rope. For the first time, he was worried. He was strong, and fast, but they had Ahsona. What if they hurt her? What if they killed her, or tortured her, or took her from him? 

With a surge of unease, Madara flared his chakra as powerfully as he could, pouring his panic and his anger into it. It was strong enough to affect the men in the room. A few of them staggered, holding their heads. Ahsona whimpered quietly, and cut it off abruptly, not wanting to upset her more. 

Distantly, he heard his foxes stirring in the room a few doors down, responding sleepily. He hoped they stayed out, at least for now. 

“We’ve been after you for a long time, Uchiha,” the first man said. He heard movements, ears pricking and swiveling to follow it. Someone walked towards him, and a rough hand gripped his chin. “You’re difficult prey to hunt. I enjoyed figuring out your MO. But a little disappointed, too. I knew you cared for the girl, but to surrender yourself for her sake? Unexpected, really.” 

“Who are you?” he asked carefully. The man smelled like sweat and dirt. Not very helpful for identifying him. 

“That’s for me to know, and for you not to find out.” The fingers on his chin tightened. “I have to say, I see the appeal,” he continued, his voice lowering. “When I heard reports about you, I was skeptical. But then again, you were thought to be attractive before you grew tails and ears. It only adds to what’s already there, mhm?” 

A finger dragged up his cheekbone, rubbing dangerously close to his eye. He hissed quietly, well aware of the methods of blood-line thieves, and the man laughed. 

“Calm down, I’m not after your eyes. Although, they might be taken from you later. I’m not sure. I’m only here to bring you to your new master, Uchiha.” 

“Master?” he echoed. A thumb ran over his lip, and without thinking, he bit it, sharp fang piercing the skin and drawing blood. A loud curse, and then fist to the face Madara turned his face with the blood, tasting his own blood in his mouth. A few drops spilled out, running over his lip and down his chin. 

“Watch it, mutt,” the man hissed. The hand returned to his chin, painfully tight. Another trailed lightly down his neck, pausing at the marks Hashirama had left the night before. “Oh, these won’t do. He wants you untouched, unmarked…. He’ll be disappointed.” 

“What are you talking about?” Madara hissed, tilting his head and straining his ears. He could hear the men around him breathing, moving. Ahsona was trying not to cry, utterly terrified. 

“Well, we’re here to bring you back to a certain someone.” The hand moved, over his shoulder, tugging at his collar. “He’s been after you for years. And now, well, he’s a little more desperate.” 

“What?” he croaked, bewildered. The man laughed, and the fabric of his mantle tore. “I thought you all were just after my blood,” he continued, voicing his confusion. “What are you talking about?” 

“What are YOU talking about?” the man asked back. “It’s never been about the fact that you’re apparently half fox. As interesting as that is, that’s not why we’re here.” 

Madara was quiet, letting that sink in. As much as he wanted to burst into a fox and tear the man's throat out now that he was safely away from Ahsona, he was gleaning a lot of information. He’d be an idiot to pass that up. He shifted a little in his binds. 

“I don’t understand,” he said slowly, hoping for more information. 

“You don’t have to.” Something soft touched his mouth. A gag, he realized. He jerked back, pursing his lips and whistling shrilly before the cloth was shoved into his mouth. 

With a tirade of snarls, his pack burst into the room. Men started screaming. A muzzle touched his head, and careful teeth pulled off his blindfold. Akiro gazed up at him, dropping the blindfold. He purred quietly at her, working his jaw to get the gag out. He started to shift, only to stop when a jolt of pain rushed up his arms and down his spine. 

Ow, okay, scratch that. Finally, he spat out the gag, quickly taking stock of the situation. His pack was fierce, but small. They couldn’t hold out forever. A familiar hand grabbed the back of his neck hard, slamming his forehead against the floor. Dazed, Madara grunted. Akiro yelped loudly when a booted foot slammed against her side, sending her skittering back. The hand moved into Madara’s hair, yanking his head back again, and his Sharingan tried to blaze to life. 

Trying to activate it hurt, so he quickly gave it, glaring up at the man sneering down at him. He was an ugly person, short necked and broad and untrimmed facial hair. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, the floorboards burst up, vines rising from them like some sort of monster. 

Madara smiled. 

~*~*~  
Hashirama was frowning at the paper on his desk, Mito at his side and his brother pacing along the floor near the door when Tobirama gasped suddenly, freezing in place. His hands shot up, fingers burying in his hair. 

Hashirama and Mito looked at him in concern. “Tobi?” Mito asked, starting toward him. “What’s wrong?” Tobirama held up a hand, holding her off, a look of extreme concentration on his face. A wave of panic and fury, tinged with fear. Muted, somehow. Only a sensor as powerful as he could have picked it up. It was fiery, warm. Familiar. 

Startled, he looked up, meeting Hashirama’s eyes. “We have to go,” he blurted, grabbing Mito and reaching for Hashirama. His brother took a step back. 

“Tobirama, what’s going on?” he asked firmly. 

“It’s Madara,” Tobirama snapped. Hashirama froze, but only for an instant. Then his eyes hardened, and he put a hand on Tobirama’s shoulder. Within an instant, they were gone. 

~*~*~*~

The door flung open, practically blown off its hinges. Hashirama stormed into the room, Tobirama and Mito on his heels, his expression murderous. His eyes went first to Ahsona, curled up in the corner with Calica and Ghost standing protectively over her, and then to Madara. His eyes darkened. 

It was over in seconds, and Madara couldn’t help but be impressed. His lover's strength sometimes took his breath away. Mito knelt behind him, cutting the rope with a sharp kunai. It took a little while for her to saw through it. 

“What happened?” Tobirama demanded, as Hashirama went to soothe their daughter. 

“I was taken off guard,” Madara said, rubbing his wrists. Akiro wobbled up to him, whimpering. “Hey, girl,” he breathed, gently touching her side. She yelped at the contact. “Easy, easy. You did good. Good girl.” 

“She okay?” Hashirama asked, holding Ahsona and crouching next to them. 

“I think some of her ribs are broken,” Madara replied, reaching for Ahsona. She went to him willingly, and Hashirama turned to Akiro, one hand glowing green, to heal her. Ahsona curled into Madara, scent marking him. 

“Are you okay, kit?” he asked softly, running his hands over her tiny body in search of injuries. She nodded, but kept shaking. Poor thing must be terrified. Madara glanced over at the body of the big man, satisfied to see a vine skewering him through the chest. 

“I hope we’re not too late,” Tobirama said. “Your chakra flare was muted.” 

“Chakra suppressors,” he said, waving a hand at the cut ropes. 

“How did they get close enough to bind you?” Tobirama demanded. 

“They had Ashona. What else was I supposed to do?” Hashirama sighed quietly, and Madara bumped his shoulder. “Couldn’t you have kept one of them alive? I was getting a lot of information before you showed up.” 

“Sorry that I couldn’t control the urge to kill everyone who dared touch my family,” Hashirama said back, unrepentant. He tugged Madara closer to him, kissing his temple. Madara carded his fingers through Ahsona’s hair, mind racing. 

“What did you find out?” Mito asked, and he paused, looking down at the body in front of him. 

“They’re after daddy,” Ahsona whispered. 

“What?” 

“They don’t want to make more of us,” Madara said unenthusiastically. “Kurama was wrong. They aren’t trying to get us for samples to make more hybrids or crosses.” 

“They want daddy,” Ahsona repeated. Hashirama’s grip turned bruising on his wrist. 

“What?” he hissed, darkly. A few vines started curling in response to his agitation. 

“That one said that someone had been after me, apparently, for a while,” Madara said, pointing at the body. “I just have no idea who.” 

“Well, what did he tell you?” 

Madara tilted his head, and shook his head. “Nothing useful. He insinuated that I am...desirable. Said something about someone wanting me for years and growing more desperate….” 

He trailed off, thinking. 

Kurama’s last report and the mans words blended together. 

Realization hit him like a ton of bricks. 

“Holy shit. I know who it is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who, oh who, could this be? 
> 
> This didn't turn out the way I had planned. Oh well.


	16. A Trip Down Memory Lane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Do ya'll remember that one clan called the Kaguya that has that awesome bone growth manipulation thing? Yeah? Yeah.

Chapter 16

~*~*~

“His name is Riichi, of the Kaguya clan.” 

Madara paced back and forth in front of Hashirama, who was sitting on the couch, watching him. “He became clan head years ago. It was a scandalous event, as he’s not a Kaguya by blood. He came from another clan, the Kentorou.” 

“I haven't heard of them,” Tobirama commented with a frown.

“You wouldn’t have. Riichi and a few of his disciples in the Kaguya clan wiped them out. The Kentorou Kekkai Genkai only occurred in every 1 in a hundred children born to them, and Riichi was unfortunately blessed with vast amounts of chakra and impressive control over his powers. His own clan was wary of him, but the Kaguya saw him as a gift. You know well of their violent blood lust.” 

“How do you know of this...Riichi?” Mito asked. She was sitting next to Hashirama, with Ahsona on her lap. Upstairs, a few Leaf Shinobi were cleaning up the mess of bodies and blood. 

Madara paused mid-pace. “The Uchiha and the Kaguya very nearly entered into an alliance a few years after Riichi was made clan head when we were still fighting the Senju.” 

“Why didn’t you?” 

Madara shrugged. “I refused to agree to a term of the alliance.” 

“Which term?” Hashirama asked curiously, and Madara shook his head. 

“Doesn’t matter. What does matter is for you to know that he and I left off on a very bad foot and he probably fully intends to have my head on a pike.” 

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Tobirama said dryly. “Madara making enemies everywhere he goes? How shocking.” 

Hashirama shot his brother a look. “How worried should we be?” he asked Madara. 

“Not too terribly. I mean…” He paused, running his fingers through his hair with a frustrated sound. “He’s strong, yes. But only sometimes. If you can avoid his Kekkai Genkai he’s easy enough to beat. I’d be more worried about his mental state. The man is utterly insane.” 

Hashirama narrowed his eyes very slightly at him. “What is his Kekkai Genkai?” he asked, firmly. Madara resumed his pacing. 

“His blood is poison,” he started. “If he can get his blood into your system, he can control everything you do. Your mind will be your own, but your body will be his. Riichi has obtained his wealth and his power by poisoning lofty people. Kages, daimyos, kings and queens and princes and princesses, lords and dukes. He could be controlling entire countries, but we would never know...” 

He trailed off, voice lowering. “Anyways. He’s a powerful, influential man. He had the reach and the wealth to be the person behind all of this.” 

“All this work, all these coverups, just to get revenge on you?” Hashirama asked. “You must have really pissed him off.”

“That’s putting it lightly.” He stroked Ahsona’s hair absentmindedly. “He’s as stubborn as he is dangerous. It’s probably best for me to hunt him down and kill him before this can go any further.” 

“Orrrrr, you can just stay here and let it blow over and not risk your life,” Hashirama suggested, and Madara gave him a crippling glare. “What if he manages to get the drop on you, huh? What if he kills you?” What if he-”

“He won’t,” Madara broke in. “I am far stronger than he is. Have you lost so much faith in me?” 

They stared each other down, and Hashirama looked away guiltily. “I’m not saying I don’t think you’re capable,” he said quietly. “I just don’t like how readily you want to risk yourself.” 

“You think I want to run off and fight a madman? I’m not that deranged.” 

“Coulda fooled me,” Tobirama muttered under his breath. Madara pointedly ignored him, crossing his arms and staring at Hashirama. 

“Okay. Why don’t we just wait and see for a little bit, yeah? If this Riichi person mounts another attack, we’ll revisit the issue. Until then, let’s hope he’s given up.” 

“Richi won’t give up,” Madara hissed. “We’d be doing the world a favour by wiping out that stain.” 

“Madara, we wait,” Hashirama said firmly, pulling out his Hokage voice. Madara glared at him, but relented. 

“Fine, whatever.” He tilted his head, a thoughtful look crossing his face. “What if I said that killing him would bring me much joy and happiness and pleasure and I’d be an absolute joy to be around for weeks afterward?” 

“Madara, no.” The Uchiha snorted, lifting his nose disdainfully. Sensing he couldn’t win this fight, he started fussing over his foxes, praising them for their work and checking them for any injuries. Akiro had been the only one badly hurt, and she was already looking much better, thanks to Hashirama. 

Said Senju watched him, eyes dark and thoughtful. He knew Madara well. Very well. He knew when his lover was hiding something from him. And Sage, was he hiding something this time around. 

If Madara wasn’t going to tell him, he’d find someone who would. 

~*~*~

Hashirama found her three days later as she was making her customary walk back to the Uchiha district as the sun was setting, her three year old son on her hip. Long hair dark and straight, Noya Uchiha walked with brisk purpose, never one to beat around the bush and loitter. 

“Noya!” he called, hurrying out towards her. She paused when she heard him, turning towards the sound of his voice. 

“Ah! Good evening, Lord First!” She bowed her head respectfully, and Hashirama smiled. 

“Please, just Hashirama to you, Noya.” 

“All right then. Good evening, Hashirama.” 

“Good evening, Noya. May I join you?” 

“Of course.” He fell in step beside her, smiling at the three year old snoring quietly into her shoulder. 

“How is Kuzon doing?” 

“He’s a handful, per usual. And how is your Uchiha, mhm?” 

“Unmanageable.” 

Noya laughed. “That’s Madara for you.” Hashirama hummed softly, and Noya arched a fine black eyebrow. “What’s wrong? Did something happen between you two?” Ever observant. Hashirama sighed. 

“Madara’s hiding something from me,” he said. 

“Have you asked him to tell you what it is?” 

“He refuses to. I was hoping you could help me.” 

Noya gave him a look. “You two may be together, but I am not about to spill my clan heads secrets, Hokage-sama.” 

“I’m not asking you to,” Hashirama soothed quickly. Noya may be quite laid back, but she was still an Uchiha. Fiercely protective of her family and clan. “I just wondered if you could shed some light and help me understand why he might not want to tell me so I can hear him better when he does.” 

Noya considered for a while, and they walked in silence. “Alright,” she said finally. “What do you want to know?” 

“What can you tell me about the Kaguya clan?” 

“Ah, them. I assume you’re also wanting to know about Riichi Kentorou.” 

“You know of him too?” 

“Of course. He raised all of our hackles. You’ll never find a man more hated among the Uchiha.” 

“Why?” Hashirama pressed, eager. “What happened?” 

Noya sighed. “Years ago the Kaguya approached the Uchiha, offering an alliance with us. This was when we were still fighting with you Senju. Riichi had been clan head for a few years now, and knew Madara already, having communicated with his father several times. Madara agreed to hear him out, and a proposed alliance was presented. Things were going well at first. The Kaguya are a strong clan, and with their help we could have defeated you. Just as the treaty between the two clans was about to be signed, Riichi requested one more condition. Madara and the other Uchiha were furious with his demand, and refused the alliance.” 

“What was his condition?” 

“Why, marriage of course.” 

Hashirama choked on his own breath. “What? Marriage? To who?” 

“Madara, obviously.” 

“Riichi wanted to marry Madara?!” he squawked. Kuzon stirred a little, and Noya glared at him until the boy settled. 

“Yes, he did,” she continued when he was quiet again. “As I said, he knew Madara for a few years before he became head of the Uchiha. In fact, he had offered his father an alliance too, in the form of a marriage to Madara. His father refused, and Riichi was apparently willing to wait until Madara was of age to decide for himself.” 

“He wanted to marry Madara,” Hashirama repeated, more to himself. “Why?” 

Noya laughed quietly. “Come now, Hashirama. It’s not the first time another clan has asked for his hand. Madara is leader of our clan, powerful enough to go toe to toe with the best shinobi in the land, and he’s attractive, so bonus points.” 

Hashirama huffed at her point. “He’s not that attractive,” he muttered. He was lying to himself. His lover was beautiful; he just didn’t want to think of others having the same attraction to him as he. 

Noya just laughed. “Oh, come on. All Uchiha are beautiful.” It wasn’t haughty or arrogant or smug. It was just the truth. “And Madara also has some more….androgynous...traits. He’s shorter and slimmer than most men, fairer skinned, and sharper than most women. It’s eye catching to a lot of people. Everyone in the clan has been a little bit in love with him at one point.”

Hashirama grunted. “Well, anyways. Riichi wanted to marry Madara, and Madara refused him. What then?” 

Noya sighed quietly, the mirth in her dark eyes fading. “Riichi seemed to accept it. He and his delegation left. A few months later, they reached out again, offering another alliance with the Uchiha with different terms. We were running ragged after our fights with you. Madara agreed to meet again, just to hear them out. Riichi proposed marriage again, Madara refused. After the meeting was over and it was clear there was no alliance to be had, Riichi asked to speak to Madara in private to apologize for his behaviour. Understand this, Madara was a little naive at the time. He didn’t look into it at all, or suspect anything. When they were alone, Riichi tried to….Well….” She shrugged a little. “I’m sure you can guess. Anywho, Madara was furious, and ended up burning half his face off. Some other Uchiha, when they got wind of what Riichi attempted, killed the rest of his company, burned all his clothes and possessions, and sent him off with nothing but the skin on his back, humiliated and badly burnt.” 

“And so they’re on bad terms?” Hashirama summed up, and Noya made a disbelieving sound. 

“Bad terms as far as Madara’s concerned. But Riichi is obsessed with him. Ever after being so spurned, he’s asked Madara to reconsider. Several times over the years, increasing in frequency. As far as I know, he hasn’t gotten another message in months. Perhaps Riichi heard about the founding on Konoha and gave up.”

Hashirama thought quietly about this for a while. Once at the entrance to the Uchiha district, Noya paused, adjusting Kuzon in her arms. “Luckily for you, Madara was already utterly head over heels for you,” she added. 

“Lucky me,” he agreed faintly. Noya gave him a compassionate smile. 

“Be patient with him, Hashirama. He’ll tell you when he’s ready. But it was a scarring experience for him. A wake up call that he's not as invincible as he thought.” 

“How close did Riichi get?” He dreaded the answer. Noya’s smile faded, turning more serious. 

“Too close.” She looked back over her shoulder, at the Uchiha district. “I should go. Good night, Lord First. I hope I was helpful to you.” 

“Immensely,” Hashirama said. With a final smile, Noya disappeared into the darkened streets. Hashirama numbly made his way back home, his thoughts racing. 

He found Madara curled in the corner of the couch, legs tucked under a blanket and his favorite book in hand. His hair was tied up in a high ponytail, with a couple long strands prettily framing his face. He looked up when Hashirama approached, blinking slowly and lazily at him. 

Hashirama crouched down on the floor in front of him, one warm hand resting heavy on his thigh. “Hey,” he said quietly, leaning forward until his forehead was pressed against Madara’s chest. 

Unusually accepting, Madara adjusted a little, threading his fingers through his hair and lazily stroking. “What’s on your mind?” he asked quietly, picking up on his sullen mood. Hashirama grunted, winding his arms around his waist and shaking his head. Understanding, Madara kept petting his hair, occasionally scratching his scalp and running his ungloved fingers over his eyebrows and temples. 

Eventually, they rearranged themselves until they were both lying on the couch, Hashirama on top of Madara, his head resting on his chest and arms loosely wrapped around him. Madara continued to stroke his hair, hand sweeping down to the back of his neck and shoulders, kneading the muscles there between his fingers. 

“You know I love you, right?” he said sleepily at some point. Madara’s fingers stilled for a moment. 

“I know,” he said softly. “As do I.”

“I know.” Madara’s chest rose and fell as he sighed deeply. 

“What’s wrong, Hashirama? Something is bothering you.” 

Hashirama hesitated, then turned his head to set his chin on his chest, staring up at him. Madara gazed back down, black eyes even darker in the dim light. “Why didn’t you tell me what happened between you and Riichi?” 

For an instant, Madara stiffened, fingers curling painfully into his hair. Then, just as quickly, he relaxed again, wrapping a strand of his hair around his fingers, coiling and uncoiling it. 

“It’s not important.” 

“But it haunts you now, doesn’t it?” Hashirama pressed gently. “That’s why you were so insistent on going to kill him, isn’t it?” 

“I’d rest better knowing he’s gone,” Madara admitted. 

“Are you afraid of him?” 

“No,” he said immediately. “Never. I only worry about the consequences of his sanity.” 

“How do you mean?” He lifted his head a little bit. Madara absentmindedly pushed it back down to his chest. He could hear his heartbeat here, slow and loud and steady. Strong. 

“Riichi is a madman, Hashirama. Look at how far he’s gone already. How many more people will die before he gives up?” 

“Maybe he already has?” he offered weakly, burrowing his face further into Madara’s chest, enjoying the warmth that constantly emanated from him. 

Madara snorted. “Not likely.”

“Can I ask you something?” 

“Mhm?” 

“How naive were you back then?” 

Madara grumbled under his breath, looking away and looking a little embarrassed. “Very.” 

“How?” he pressed, unable to suppress his curiosity. 

“I honestly thought he was having a seizure or some kind of mental snap when he touched me,” he grumbled. “I was so confused it's embarrassing to think back on it. When it finally clicked I was so mad I could have burned the forest down.” 

Hashirama snickered quietly. “You’re so cute.” 

“Am not.” His fingers curled lightly into the back of his neck, putting pleasant pressure on the muscles there. Hashirama groaned in appreciation, eyes slipping shut. They moved in slow circles, working out the knots. 

“How about we just wait, and see for a little bit, okay?” he asked after a few minutes of silence. Madara hummed sleepily, his fingers moving slower. 

“Okay.” 

~*~*~

They didn’t have to wait long. Not two days later, the door to the Hokage office swung open with a loud bang, and a distraught Uchiha burst in, dark hair disarrayed and Sharingan eyes wide with panic. 

“They took him,” Noya cried, stumbling over her feet. Perched on the corner of Hashirama’s desk, Madara hopped to his feet, catching her and setting his hands firmly on her shoulders. She clung at his collar, her pale face flushed and streaked with tears. “They took him, Madara! They have him!” 

“Calm down, Noya,” Madara soothed, glancing over at Hashirama and Tobirama. The Senju brothers stared at the Uchiha’s with bewildered expressions. “What’s going on?” 

“They took him,” Noya sobbed. “They have Kuzon.” 

“Who has him?” Madara asked, gently guiding her to sit down. The woman was shaking like a leaf in a hurricane. Her red eyes met his, and her nails dug into his forearms. 

“This is addressed for you,” she whispered, seeming to gather herself a little before digging out a plain, unmarked scroll from the fold of her mantle. "I found it where he was supposed to be..." 

“Who has him, Noya?” Madara repeated, taking the scroll and setting it aside in favour of giving her his full attention. Noya inhaled shakily. 

“The Kaguya.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think they could have gone more in depth into the Kaguya. They're pretty cool. I legit chose them cuz I need a strong opponent and that's kinda it.


	17. Flames and Fury

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things never go as planned, but oh well. Meet Riichi
> 
> *Also a hint to Ahsona's Gekkai Kenkai*

~*~*~

It took several minutes for Noya to calm down. Tobirama had to go and get Mito and Toka to help. The three women had become fast friends, for some terrifying reason. Hashirama watched the Uchiha in concern. Losing a child to an enemy such as the Kaguya had to be terrifying. He couldn’t imagine how he’d feel if Ahsona were taken from him. 

He reluctantly tore his eyes away, searching for the other Uchiha. Madara had stepped away as soon as Mito and Toka had arrived. Now he was standing in the corner of the room, holding the now opened scroll Noya had given to him, and scowling darkly at it. 

“Madara,” he called, starting towards him. His dark eyes flicked up to him. “What is it? What does it say?” He started to reach out for the scroll. Madara crumpled it in his hands, and it burst into flame. Hashirama quickly withdrew his hand. “Madara?” 

For a long moment, Madara just stared at him, eyes dark and expression unreadable. “It’s not important,” he said finally. He smiled a tiny smile, stepping past Hashirama, but only after putting a hand fondly on his chest. Then he slipped silently out the door and into the hallway. 

Hashirama saw right through him. “Hold on a minute,” he mumbled to Tobirama, hurrying after him. Tobirama just raised an unamused eyebrow. 

He caught up to Madara in the hallway. “Madara,” he called. “Madara, wait!” The Uchiha glanced back over his shoulder at him, and walked a little faster. Hashirama cursed quietly, tossing aside his pride and all but sprinting toward him. “Mads you little brat!”

He seized Madara by the wrist, yanking him around. Madara curled his lip at him, wrenching his arm back to yank his wrist free. Hashirama grunted when his fist connected with his chest, spinning Madara around and pinning him against the wall. “What’s wrong with you?” he demanded, grabbing his other wrist too when he swatted at him. “What was on the scroll?” 

“Nothing important!” Madara seethed, and Hashirama frowned down at him. 

“Obviously it was something if you’re trying so hard to hide it.” 

“Hashirama-”

“Madara.” Abruptly, the Uchiha stopped his weak attempts to get free, slumping against the wall and staring at him. 

“You wouldn’t like it.” 

“So? Why is that holding you back from telling me?” 

Madara bit his lip ever so slightly. “Because you would try to stop me.” 

“Shouldn’t I try to stop you regardless then?”

He sighed, tugging at his wrists. Getting the hint, Hashirama let go, but didn’t move from boxing him in, frowning down at him. Shifting his weight, Madara tilted his head back, staring back up at him. 

“Riichi has Kuzon,” he said quietly. “Kuzon is an Uchiha. He is from my clan. It is my responsibility as clan head to bring him back, safe and sound.” 

“That’s not all Riichi said though, is it?” Hashirama guessed, reaching up to brush Madara’s bangs to the side. He shook his head slowly. “What else was there?” 

“Riichi offered a trade,” he said softly. “Kuzon will be free to go unharmed if I come to him.” 

“To what end?” 

“He didn’t say.” 

Hashirama frowned. “No.” 

“I wasn’t-”

“Don’t even try to pull that shit with me, Madara. You’re as much a self-sacrificing idiot as me.” He brushed his fingertips along his cheekbone. “Did it say anything else?” 

“A location. Date and time.” 

“How long do we have?” 

“Three days. The next warning will come in the form of an eye.” 

~*~*~

Madara and Hashirama fought about it for nearly two days before Mito finally put her foot down, sitting them both down and giving them a tongue lashing within an inch of their lives. 

“You are adults acting like toddlers!” she snarled near the end of her rant, stomping in front of the very guilty looking founders. “You’re upsetting your daughter for no reason and you’re not thinking logically about any of this!” Hashirama sent Madara a depressed look, and the Uchiha sighed. “You two brought an era of war to a close. This is not such a big deal. You’re making mountains out of mole hills. Madara, be nice for once. Hashirama, had a little more faith in your partner. How many times had he nearly killed you?

Madara snorted softly. “Apparently not enough.” 

“Shut it, Uchiha!” 

“Mito has a point,” Tobirama said. He was sitting on the corner, watching the scolding session with amusement. “This is one man. You can figure it out. Like I already have.” 

“If you two weren’t so busy squabbling, being too overly worried and too proud to accept help, you would have known that we have a plan for getting Kuzon back.” 

“Wait, you do?” Hashirama asked, surprised. Mito nodded. 

“But, Madara. We need you to tell us a little more about Riichi. And his abilities.” 

Madara shrugged. “There’s not much more to know. He usually likes to keep a blade with him that has a thin coat of his blood on it. One slice and you’re his. That or he’ll shove some blood down your throat. He has used it on thrown projectiles before, but it's less accurate and efficient.” 

“He’s a close range fighter,” Tobirama said, and Madara nodded. “Good. You’re both good long range fighters. Surely, he has heard of you, Anija, but it’s doubtful he’ll know the full extent of your Wood Style.” 

“You’ll go to get Kuzon with Noya,” Mito continued. “And as soon as the child is safe, it’ll be easy to take him.” 

“Richi won’t be alone,” Madara warned. “And he made sure to specify that only I am to come into the central building.” 

“There’s ways to work around that. We’ll take members of the Uzumaki, Hatake, Hyuuga, Nara, Senju, and Uchiha clan with us.” 

“The strongest Konoha has to offer,” Madara noted, and Tobirama nodded. 

“This is just as much a rescue as it is a warning,” he said. “A display to other villages and countries of Konoha’s might.” 

Madara stared at the albino for a moment. It unsettled him, how willing they all were to help him with what he considered his problem. Why would they? It didn’t make any sense to him. “I’m taking my pack,” he said suddenly, struck with inspiration.

“The litter too?” Hashirama asked, and Madara frowned. 

“Zorro, Cyna, Flicker, and Hibi,” he decided. “Vin and Jazz and Daybreak should get a little bigger yet.” The litter Spots and Nyx had borne were over 8 months old already, nearly adults, and just as fierce and playful as their parents. Madara had taken them out on several missions already, and was confident in their ability to handle themselves. “Besides, Ahsona will be mad if I take them all. The Yamanaka’s are still able to watch her while we’re gone?” 

“Absolutely. She can take the kits with her.” 

“Good. That’ll keep her happy.” He glanced over his shoulder, where Ahsona was cuddling with the foxes and reading a book. “She should get to bed soon. Hashi, you wanna take her?” 

Hashirama groaned, but stood and stretched. It was always a chore to bring their daughter to bed now. She usually threw a royal fit. Madara watched them fondly for a bit, and Mito went to help with a dramatic eye roll. 

“Tobirama,” he said, as soon as they were out of ear shot. “That jutsu we’re working on. The one to imitate Ahsona’s Gekkai Kenkai. I have an idea. Your notes?” 

Wordlessly, Tobirama pulled them from a pocket on the inside of his shirt, just little Madara knew he would. He held them out to him, and he spread them out on the table in front of him, ignoring the drafts and peering intently at the more complete versions. “What if we add dog here,” he said, pointing. “And change out bear for horse? Could that work?” 

“I’ll try it tonight,” Tobirama promised. His red eyes were gleaming. “But I think you might be right.” 

Madara smirked, sharply. Good. Things were going according to plan. 

~*~*~

Tobirama slid up beside him as they left Konoha the next morning, sprinting to Riichi’s hidden compound where he wished to meet. “It worked,” he said quietly. With a noticeable strain of excitement. “Ready?” 

Madara nodded, activating his Sharingan. Tobirama moved his hands through a series of signs, and he committed them to memory. “Good. If I get the chance I’ll let you know how it goes.” 

“I’ll hold you to it.” 

The albino sped up to join Mito. He ran just like Hashirama did, fast and long strided. He glanced over to his other side, at Hashirama looping along beside him. His expression was hard, concentrated. Idly, Madara slid a little closer to him, knocking his hand against his as they ran. 

Hashirama glanced back at him, and smiled. “Stop worrying,” he scolded. “It’ll be fine.” 

The Senju glanced back at Noya, running with Toka right at her side. “It better be.” 

“Where’s the confidence?” Madara teased. “Remember you’re the God of Shinobi. Why are you acting all worried and anxious? How can we NOT succeed? It’d take a miracle for that to happen.”

“The Kaguya are a strong clan,” Hashirama reminded. “And we still don’t know what Riichi’s end game is.” 

“No matter. I think we’ve both gotten a lot more cautious since Konoha became a thing.” 

“We have more to protect and to lose.” 

“Which just means we can fight all the harder for it.” Hashirama grinned at him, bright and enthusiastic. 

~*~*~

Riichi’s compound looked abandoned. But to sensors like himself and Tobirama, it was anything but. “There’s more than I was expecting,” Tobirama said. They had yet to make their presence known to the many shinobi scattered among the ruins of the outer wall, hiding out in the thick forests surrounding it. “I can sense Kuzon in the middle. Just like Riichi said.” 

“Then what are we waiting for?” Madara said, cracking his neck. “You all remember the plan?” 

“We’ll make our move as soon as you’re inside,” Hashirama confirmed. Madara grinned. 

“Watch out for their pointy bits.” 

“Yes sir.” Hashirama smiled, drawing him in for a brief kiss. 

“See you soon.” Madara smirked, and stepped out of the trees. The 9 foxes he had with him followed at his heels, excited. Calica and Akiro walked right at his heels, and Nyx and Spots herded the 4 kits they had with them. Ghost looked utterly disinterested walking behind them all.

The moment they were within the walls of the compound, stepping past the piles of rubble and broken stones and logs, their playful antics stopped. They sensed the change in atmosphere, just as he did. He clicked his tongue twice, and they fell into their usual formation: Calicia right at his side, Akiro close behind, and Ghost and Spots taking up the rear. 

Madara could sense the many eyes on him as he made his way to the center of the hideout, but carefully remained composed, not reacting even when he felt them move with him. 

At long last, he paused before an impressive set of double doors. He didn’t hesitate, pushing them open and striding into the building. It was surprisingly well lit; torches blazed from their posts on the wall, but no natural light filtered in. 

Flaring his senses, he located Kuzon. There was no one else here other than him. That was...unsettling. He walked a little slower, building up his chakra warily. 

Nothing leaped out of the shadows to confront him. There were no yells of surprise attack, no whispers or shuffling feet. It was utterly silent. Another set of doors blocked his way, and when he stepped through them, he was in a throne room. It was long, rectangular. Pillars rose up on either side of a gold and marble walkway leading up to a raised throne. Just to the right of the throne was Kuzon, bound and gagged and blind folded. 

Automatically, he shifted down into the fox. Kuzon was more familiar with ‘Dara’ than ‘Madara’, and he didn’t want to frighten the boy more than he already was. Purring quietly to announce his presence, he took hold of the black blindfold around his eyes with his teeth, and gently tugged it off. The boys' watery black eyes blinked at him, and Madara worked the gag off next. 

“Dara-chan,” he said cheerfully, too young to recognize how dire his situation was. All he knew was that his mother was not here, and Dara was something of fun and comfort. 

“Hello, Kuzon,” Madara greeted, gnawing through the rope on the boy's wrists and ankles. It fell away, edges frayed, and Madara nudged his chest with his snout. “Up, up,” he encouraged. “Let’s go home to mom.” 

“Mummy,” the boy said enthusiastically. 

“That’s right. Come now.” He nudged at his chest again, and Calica suddenly started to growl. Madara stiffened at her tone.

“Hello, firebird.” 

Slowly, Madara turned, ears flattening against his skull. A man stood across the gold and marble walkway, on the other side of the throne. His eyes were very, very white. “I suppose it’s fox now, isn’t it? Shame. I always thought you’d make a better bird.”

“Riichi,” he growled, stepping in front of Kuzon and spreading his tails to hide the boy from view. “It’s been a while.” 

“Far too long.” Madara narrowed his eyes, rearing onto his hind legs and half shifting. He kept the tails and ears. They were helpful in combat. 

Riichi looked exactly as he remembered. Tall, broad shouldered. Used to be handsome, but with half his face burnt away, he looked grotesque, alien. His hair hadn’t grown back on the right side of his head, and that which grew on the left was short, brown, spiky. A tiny scattering of facial hair cast a shadow on his cheek. Perhaps he was still a little beautiful, in a broken kind of way. 

“It’s a good look on you,” Riichi offered, looking him up and down. “Different. But nice. It makes you look softer. Gentler.” 

“What are you playing, Riichi?” he snapped, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at him. He could feel his claws digging into his biceps. 

“I’m not playing anything, Madara. I simply wanted to see you again.” 

“Bullshit. What do you want?” 

The pleasant expression on his scarred face dropped, turning into something darker. “I want you to stop acting so high and mighty all the damned time,” he hissed, finally stepping closer. 

“Me?” Madara said incredulously. “You accuse ME of acting arrogant? What about yourself, you hypocrite?”

“It is well within my freedom to do so. You’re a lesser being, you don’t deserve that freedom.” 

“You and your stupid superiority complex,” Madara growled. “If it's so important to you, honour our deal. I am here, so let Kuzon go.”

Riichi stared at him blankly. “You speak about honour, when you show none yourself. You broke our deal first by coming with an escort. They are dying outside as we speak. I am under no obligation to honour our bargain.” 

Madara curled his lip at him. “This is exactly why I didn’t want to marry you,” he snapped. “Everything you say grates my nerves.” 

“In time, you’ll change your mind.” Riichi moved a little closer all during their conversation, slowly closing the distance, as if hoping Madara wouldn’t notice. Idiot. 

“Are you seriously still on that?” he asked in disbelief. Riichi nodded. 

“I realized I have been going about it the wrong way,” he said. “I have tried to be patient with you, and understanding. I respected your need for space and time. But no more. You will come back with me, and you will take my name as your own.” 

“You’ve not lost a single grain of madness,” Madara commented, lashing his tails. Riichi’s pale eyes watched the movement interestedly. 

“Perhaps. And you’ve not lost any of your snark. After I take those pesky eyes of yours, I’ll take that from you as well.”

Madara narrowed his eyes, Sharingan whirling to life and chakra building. “I’d like to see you try.” 

Riichi smiled. Two kunai blazed towards his head, and he batted them aside with his claws. They clattered to the ground loudly. Riichi gave him a look. “Have you gotten faster?” 

“Maybe you’ve just grown slower, old man,” Madara bit back. The familiar smell of smoke greeted his nostrils, and he smiled, flames curling up from his skin, licking at him but not harming him. “Allow me to finish my work on your face.” 

Flames flaring, Madara lunged forward, slashing his fiery claws down at Riichi’s face. The man dodged, narrowly, another blade appearing in his hand. He slashed at Madara’s chest, and he blocked, jabbing his claws into the man's wrist and severing one of his wrist tendons. Riichi snarled, lifting a leg and kicking him solidly in the gut. 

Madara stepped back for balance, and two of his tails curled around Riichi’s ankle, unbalancing him at the same time. Madara rammed his forearm against Riichi’s throat, throwing all of his weight into the blow and successfully knocking him down. 

“You have grown slower,” Madara commented, pinning him down and digging his claws into the soft flesh at the base of his throat. 

“Or maybe you’ve grown dumber.” Madara’s eyes narrowed, and Riichi stabbed at him with a blood coated kunai. Fresh blood. Had he seriously just stabbed himself for that? 

Madara dodged, eyeing the blade carefully. He couldn’t risk even a scratch. Riichi hoisted himself back to his feet, and was on him, not giving him a moment to breathe. He swiped and slashed, and Madara backed up, carefully watching the blade. 

Seeing an opening, Madara took it, smacking the man's hand with a tail and lunging at his neck. His hand curled around his throat, and he took him down again. He was pleased with himself. This was becoming an easier fight that he thought it’d be. Riichi was getting old. 

The man raised his unburnt eyebrow at his gleeful smirk. “Are you deluding yourself by thinking you’re winning?” he asked, wrapping his fingers loosely around Madara’s wrist. 

“I’m not the one pinned down for the second time in two minutes,” Madara said smugly. 

“But you are the one who stepped right into my trap.” He moved his hand away, and clenched his fist. Startled, Madara looked up, heart stopping at the sight. 

All around them was blood, hanging like raindrops suspended in the air. The fresh blood from Riichi’s kunai. Spread all over the room during their brief little spar. And now, rising up to Riichi’s call. His control had grown even better. 

“I’ve been told it feels sharp,” Riichi said, gazing up at him with an amused smirk. “When the blood drops pierce your skin. I wonder how you’ll react to it.” 

Madara leaped back, hands going through a rapid motion of signs. Fire blazed up his throat, and he breathed a giant fireball where the blood drops were suspended the thickest, evaporating them. As soon as that was done, he made a few more signs. The strain on his chakra was noticeable, and a lot more than he was expecting. But it worked. 

His pack surged up around him, their bodies rippling and expanding, until they were huge, the size of horses and even more fierce. Calica, the biggest one to begin with, was monstrous, her massive fangs bared. 

“Pretty trick,” Riichi commented, standing and eyeing the foxes that were beginning to circle him. “Do you think they will save you? They can’t.” 

“They just have to distract you,” Madara said back with a grin. He whistled sharply, and the foxes burst into action, lunging at Riichi, snapping their enormous fangs. Akiro veered away from the others, huge and white and shaggy, bounding towards him. He led her to Kuzon, hiding in the corner. 

“Take him back, okay?” he said, picking up the child and placing him on her back. Akiro licked his cheek in reply, turning and sprinting down the hall. A blur of orange and black, and she was very abruptly knocked down. Kuzon tumbled off her back with a sharp cry of fear. 

Hissing, Nyx pounced on Akiro, jaws going for her throat. Calica leapt to her aid, biting Nyx by the nape of her neck and wrenching her off the white fox. More snarls sounded from the other side of the room, and Madara followed the sound with dismay, seeing Ghost snarling at Spots and the kits. 

“You should have put it together, Madara,” Riichi said. “I can control anything my blood touches. Your two foxes are good additions to my collection. Shall I add more?” He raised a hand, and dozens of blood droplets hovered around him, rising from the floor once more. 

“Don’t you dare,” Madara hissed. 

“Protective, aren’t we?” Riichi smiled, amused. “Go ahead and try to save them then.” 

Fire raced through him again, and he cast another fireball at Riichi, furious and frustrated with himself for not thinking of that. Riichi dodged, diving behind the throne and rolling out from the other side. He flung out his hand, like he was throwing shruikan. A few dozen drops of blood streaked towards him. 

Madara blocked it with a wall of fire, hearing the satisfying sizzle as the blood evaporated. He called the flames back, and smirked at Riichi. 

Riichi smirked right back, and curled his fingers. If his Sharingan wasn’t activated, Madara might have missed the movement. As it was, he did see it. He predicted the action, but wasn’t fast enough to evade it. 

A pinprick of pain at the back of his neck had him reaching back to touch the tiny mark left behind when a drop of blood sharpened like a needle and sunk into skin. More tiny pricks of painful discomfort signalled more of Riichi’s blood entering his system. 

Shit. 

“Call off your mutts, Madara,” Riichi said. 

Idiot. 

Unwillingly, Madara whistled softly, and the rest of his back fell back, returning to his side. “Loose the flames, Uchiha. As pretty as they are.” The fire that constantly licked at his arms and fingers faded back into his skin. 

“Good. Now, on your knees.” 

Seething furiously on the inside, Madara wordlessly obeyed, his body moving without his commands, responding fully and wholly to Riichi’s will. “Remove your weapons and set them down in front of you.” 

He did so, even pulling out the kunai he had hidden under his shirt. Riichi smiled, taking a few steps forward and putting a hand under Madara’s chin and tilting his face up.”Deactivate your Sharingan.”

Riichi watched the red fade from Madara’s eyes with a gleeful expression. A few of his foxes growled when he crouched down in front of him, brushing his bangs back. “Good job, Madara.” He leaned back on his heels, drawing a kunai and placing it on the ground in front of him. It was wickedly sharp, glinting dangerously. 

“Now. Take out your eyes.” 

Unable to stop himself, Madara reached out the blade, fingers wrapping around cold steel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end is near


	18. To Who He Belongs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ouch

~*~*~

He tried. 

He really, really did. 

Fire coursed through his veins, burning through the foreign intruders. But it wasn’t moving fast enough. 

The kunai felt too heavy in his hand as he lifted it. He tried to slow it, tried to stop it, but it just kept on coming. His hand automatically turned it, angling its sharp tip towards him, lifting it higher. Watching it come closer and being unable to flinch or turn away sent a rush of panic through him. He couldn’t lose his eyes. Izuna’s eyes. 

But for all his internal shrieking and cursing, it did nothing. It hurt more than he expected it to when the kunai’s tip made contact and sunk into his right eye. It didn’t bleed. It just leaked a clear, watery fluid, the vitreous humour that gave the eye its shape. His body screamed, urging him to move away from the pain, the danger. 

But he couldn’t. The blade just sunk in deeper, pushed in with his own hand, and twisted. 

Riichi watched him with a lazy smile as he worked away at his eye, sensing his resistance, his slowness, but not commenting on it. Enjoy his struggle and his defeat. “With your eyes gone, how can you stand against me?” he drawled, stepping a little closer. His fingers brushed over his cheek, smearing the liquid falling from his breaking eye. “You will yield to me, just as you were meant to.” 

The blade sunk in a little deeper. He couldn’t see out of it anymore. The realization made him feel sick. He wouldn’t move on his own accord. He couldn’t reach up for the necklace Kurama had given him and summon the fox. Hashirama and the others would be tied up outside fighting the Kaguya. 

If the poison didn’t burn out of his body soon, he would lose both eyes. He’d be blind, unable to access his Sharingan, unable to predict movements. Riichi would continue to put his blood into him, perhaps to the ends of his days. 

He had lost. 

The blade in his eye twisted, bringing with it a fresh burst of pain and a thick trickle of blood, mixing with the clear fluid within the eye and trickling down his cheek like tears. “You bleed so prettily,” Riichi muttered, swiping some of the blood with his thumb and lifting it to eye level. “You always have. It’s satisfying to see you finally bleeding for me.” 

Unable to make even an expression of distaste, Madara glared at him with his one good eye, conveying all his hate and loathing. Riichi brushed his fingers over his eyebrow, gazing back. “I’ll admit, I’ll miss seeing all that defiance in your eyes. But you’ll be so much happier without your eyes to tempt you to power. If only I had taken them earlier. None of this would have happened. The Kaguya and the Uchiha would be allies, you’d be at my side where you belong. The Senju would be nothing but a word in the history books. Your little village would be nothing.” He grabbed Madara’s hand, pushing the kunai a little further into his ruined eye, until it stuck in by itself and didn’t need a hand to hold it. 

“Before you continue, I have a task for you,” he said, almost kindly. What a snake. “You came here, so invested and dedicated to saving a child from your clan. How much would it break you to kill him yourself?” 

Madara’s one good eye widened with horror, and Riichi laughed. He took one of Madara’s kunai, pressing it into his hand. “Be good for me now. Kill the boy. Go on.” 

He got up on his feet, turning to where Kuzon was lying. Akiro was standing in front of him, her eyes wary and confused. Her last order had been to protect the child. But would she protect Kuzon from him, her master?

“Order your pet away,” Riichi said. “I’ll do you a kindness by letting you keep them. I wouldn’t want to upset you by killing one of them.” 

He clicked his tongue, and Akiro obediently stepped away. Her movements were hesitant, unsure. Briefly, Madara felt a fierce stab of pride through the pain and dismay. She knew something was wrong. But she didn’t know how to act on it. 

Kuzon stared up at him as he approached, his terrified eyes locked on the knife sticking out of Madara’s eye. He didn’t say anything, only whimpered and curled in on himself. He was only three. How could this happen? 

Hating himself, Madara reached for the boy, adjusting the knife in his grip. It would only take an instant. He’d be fast. The boy didn’t have to suffer. 

As quick as he was, nothing was quicker than a mother whose child was in danger. 

~*~*~

A foot connected with his wrist so hard the bones cracked, and the kunai went flying. Another foot struck his chest, knocking him back several steps. Inwardly, Madara smiled. So he was right. It had been Noya he had sensed approaching. 

The Uchiha stood in front of Kuzon, her chest heaving, breathing deeply. She had a cut on her cheek, but otherwise looked uninjured. “He has you, doesn’t he, Madara?” she asked between pants. She held two curved daggers in her hands, both coated with blood. Her dark eyes moved to the kunai sticking out of one of his own, and her expression hardened with anger. 

“How dare you?” she hissed at Riichi. “How dare you raise a hand against him?” 

“He did that to himself,” Riichi said, striding up behind Madara. He shrieked inwardly in rage when one hand pressed against his back. “I just gave him a nudge in the right direction. Isn’t that so, Madara?” His fingers trailed along his jaw, and Noya glared. 

“How dare you touch him?” she demanded. “How dare you-”

“Enough,” Riichi said, sounding bored. “You are the brat's mother, I suppose? Very well. Madara, kill her, and then the child, and then you can go ahead and take out your other eye.” He nudged Madara forward, and he reluctantly built up his chakra. Noya had a better chance of surviving Uchiha styled attacks than ones he might otherwise try. 

The woman lifted his hands, fire flicking along her exposed forearms as Madara’s own flames erupted from his fingertips. “How much longer until it burns out, Madara?” she asked. 

Madara didn’t reply. He couldn’t. He could only stare at her, and fall into a fighting stance. She mimicked him. “The more you fight the more the flames within will rage. It’ll burn out quicker. Forgive me for this, Madara-sama. I mean no disrespect to my clan head.” 

With a roar of fire, Noya lunged towards him, dark eyes hard. A fireball barreled before him, and Madara blocked it with a raging orb of his own. His Sharingan remained deactivated, while hers blazed with life. Good. She might have more of a chance then. 

Bright flashes of fire resulted from their clashes, and Madara was impressed with Noya’s resilience. She was one of the stronger Uchiha in the clan, but to be able to keep up with him for so long was something else. His flames burned hotter, more desperately. Just a little longer, and the poison would be burned out. But Riichi was not likely to let them beat around the bush much longer. 

As they fought, Madara used the sound of fire and clashing steel to mask quiet clicks of his tongue that only Noya and his foxes could hear. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched them move to stand around Kuzon. They would protect the child, even from him. Good pack. 

“Finish this, Madara,” Riichi called. “Or I will.” 

“Forgive me, Madara,” Noya said. She made a few hand signs that Madara missed without his Sharingan to aid him. Wisps of deep red chakra rose up from her body, swirling around her and taking a very distinctive form. 

Susanoo. 

How? When? 

With a cry, Noya charged at him, the dark red blade of her Susanoo arching down. If he hadn’t stepped aside in the nick of time, the chakra sword would have cleaved him in half. Still, Madara didn’t activate his Sharingan. Riichi had ordered him not to, after all. 

He dodged and ducked Noya’s attacks, his face expressionless, but inwardly glowing with pride for his clan mate. The throne room was in ruins. The pillars had been knocked down, smoking and blackened. Tapestries that had hung on the wall had burned away. Bits of the walls and ceiling were falling, the entire building shaking under the force of Noya’s Susanoo. 

Fire curled constantly around him. For a moment, he felt excited. The poison was wearing off. Soon now….only a few more minutes. 

“Enough,” Riichi called. “Madara, the child. NOW.” 

Unwillingly, his body turned and his chakra flared, forming two flames blades in his hands. No, no, no. He whirled away from Noya, slowly getting back up after a particularly fierce bount of blows, and headed towards Kuzon again. 

His foxes braced themselves, and Akiro and Nyx stepped over Kuzon. Ghost was the first one to move, baring his teeth and charging at him. He caught her lower jaw, and dealt her a head blow to the side of the head. She yelped horribly, and he felt a wave of guilt. 

“Madara!” Noya cried, finally getting to her feet. “Please, stop!” 

‘I can’t.’ How he wished he could speak to her, tell her he was sorry. Two strong hands seized him just as he dodged Nyx’s snapping jaws, slashing one flaming blade down at Kuzon, turning him around. The blade missed narrowly. As he turned, the other blade in his hand flared, reforming to jab forward, and piercing into the chest of the Uchiha standing before him. 

Noya’s red eyes widened, and she looked down at the sword of fire stabbing through her chest. Then, she lifted both hands to cup his face. Heat flashed through him as her fire surged into him, not burning him, but sinking under his skin, joining his own flames. 

Feeling like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over him, the poison finally, finally burned away, aided with Noya’s addition. 

“Noya,” he breathed, finally able to lift his hands like he wanted to and clutch her shoulders. Her bleeding and bruised lips pulled up into a tiny smile. The fire in his hand faded away, leaving a gaping, smouldering hole in her chest. “Hold on,” he said, gently guiding her to sit. His back was to Riichi; he shouldn’t know what happened yet. He had a few minutes. “Hang on, Noya. You’ll be okay.” 

“Your eye,” she whispered, weakly raising one hand to touch his cheek. 

“It’s fine,” he said, pushing her hand away. “Conserve your strength. I’ll be back soon, I just need to go take care of Riichi.” 

“What if he gets you again?” Noya’s voice was weak, stuttering. Wet. 

“He can’t. I have too much fire for it to work now.” Noya nodded slowly, and he gently arranged her to sit upright, with her back against a ruined pillar. Then he activated his Sharingan, his one good eye, and turned on Riichi. With a sharp click of his tongue, his foxes came out to flank him, ears flat and teeth bared. 

Remembering his own half shifted state, Madara summoned his flames again. The fire enveloped him, licking over his ears, his fingers, his tails. Not burning or hurting. Waiting, serving. 

“I will kill you,” he said darkly. Riichi’s expression didn’t change. 

“You can try.” Waggling his fingers, blood arched up around him, shifting and reforming until the drops were shaped like needles. Madara smiled. He was too warm, Noya’s fire raging within him, but it was pleasant. 

A shower of blood needles rained down on him, and he burnt them away with a wave of fire. A few needles veered, aiming towards his foxes. A thick vine stopped them. 

Surprised, Madara turned around, seeing Hashirama striding towards them, his expression dark. “Ah, the Senju,” Riichi leered, his voice dropping. “This is the one, Madara? You could do better.” 

Hashirama paused beside him, taking in the kunai still stuck in his eye, and Noya nearly passed out beyond. He looked murderous. 

“Surrender, Riichi,” he said lowly. “Your clan is defeated. You have nothing left.” Riichi gave him a thoughtful look, shifting his gaze to Madara, and then back again. 

“That clan means nothing to me. They were simply a means to get what I desired.” The unburnt side of his face contorted into a strange, manic smile. “They are gone, but that doesn’t matter. I have other methods.”

Hashirama stiffened like a rod, and Madara glanced over at him. Oh. Uh oh. 

A few tiny pinpricks marred his skin; the marks left behind when Riichi’s blood entered his system. 

Oh, crap. 

“Senju, tell me,” Riichi began, his voice steely. “Have you slept with him?” 

“Yes.” 

“Did he beg for you?” 

“Yes.” 

“Do you….love him?” 

“Yes.” 

Riichi clapped his hands, satisfied. “Then how sweet will it be for you to kill him. Afterall, fighting each other is what you’re best at, isn’t it?” The twisted glee on his face turned dark. “If I cannot have him, no one can.” 

~*~*~

Fighting Hashirama half blind and with drained chakra was not on Madara’s list of favorite things to do. His foxes helped whenever they could, but he didn’t want to involve them too much, for fear of them being hurt. Fortunately the flames still wrapped around him were hot enough to burn Hashirama’s vines when they got near. 

He couldn't maintain them forever, but he could hold out long enough. He could sense Hashirama’s chakra building and churning . His natural healing abilities were purging the poison within. Good. 

At one point, Madara pulled the kunai out of his eye, annoyed at himself for leaving it there so long to begin with. Hashirama’s eye twitched at the sight, and Madara smiled playfully. Good. It was working. The more riled up Hashirama got, the faster his chakra would purge Riichi’s influence from him. 

Ducking under a thick vine that was probably aiming to impale him, Madara set a flaming hand on the wood, and it burst into flames. It had been a long time since he and Hashirama fought like this. It was satisfying, exhilarating even. 

He glanced over at Noya. Kuzon was curled into her, and she was barely moving. Madara’s flames brightened, and he charged at Hashirama. They had to end this, soon. Noya was dying and wasn’t going to last long. 

Hashirama blocked his attack, and then the next. He was slowing down, getting tired. His flames didn’t burn as hot anymore. A vine curled around his ankle, yanking hard. Another vine, and a firm hand on his chest, and he was pinned down, with Hashirama looming over him. A few vines curled around his limbs, holding them in place. His flames bit weakly at the wood, and it regrew just as quickly as it burned. 

“Good show,” Riichi applauded. He was still sitting on his throne, gazing down at them with contempt. “Senju, after you kill Madara, go and take care of everyone else you brought with you. I will be the only one who leaves alive today.” 

His eyes turned down to Madara. “You should have just yielded, Uchiha,” he said regretfully. “Now look what you’ve done. I’m almost tempted to keep you alive just a little longer, just so you can watch the consequences of your actions unfold. But you tend to burn bright. I had a taste already. Senju, kill him.” 

Hashirama looked down at him, vines tightening, and met his eye. With a surge of chakra, his Sharingan whirled, and he pulled the Senju into a genjutsu. 

~*~*~

“Your mind is messy, Hashirama,” Madara commented, carefully stepping over what looked like an old childs toy. The Senju looked a little embarrassed. Here in his mindscape, Madara flared his chakra, flames fanning. “This may hurt, Senju,” he warned. 

“Do it,” Hashirama said, closing his eyes. Madara smiled, reaching up to press his palm against his cheeks. Then his fire raged, spreading out violently into him. 

~*~*~

With a gasp, the vine ripped through his chest and out the other side, nearly a foot wide and just as thick. Disbelieving, his eyes moved to look down at the wound, and then back to them. Still kneeling over Madara, Hashirama met his gaze, and his vine twisted ever so slightly. 

“You broke free too?” Riichi gasped, blood sputtering out of his mouth. 

“I had a little help.” The vines retracted, releasing Madara’s limbs. Moving off of him, Hashirama helped him up, hands lingering over his shoulders. 

“Bastard,” Riichi tried to snarl. It came out as little more than a desperate gasp for breath. Madara stared down at him, watching the man dying. He pulled free from Hashirama, stepping towards him and putting his hands on his cheeks, lifting his head to stare up at him. His expression was twisted with hate and pain. 

“You said it.” His flames roared, and the smell of burning flesh filled his nostrils. Riichi didn’t even have time to scream. 

“Noya,” Madara said, turning around again. Hashirama nodded, and they both hurried to where the Uchiha woman was lying. Madara touched her cheek, surprised at how cold she was. “Noya, hey,” he prodded, gently shaking her shoulder. Her eyes opened, still red with Mangekyou Sharingan. 

“Madara,” she rasped. Her voice, weak as it was, filled him with relief. He brushed her hair back from her face. 

“Hashirama?” 

“Yeah.” The Senju knelt beside them, hands glowing green. With surprising strength, Noya reached out, grabbing his wrist. 

“No,” she whispered, shaking her head. Hashirama stared down at her. 

“What?” 

“Noya, come on,” Madara encouraged. She was probably delirious. Maybe she didn’t know what was going on. 

“No,” she repeated. “Let me be.” 

“But, Noya,” Hashirama started to protest. “You-”

“Quiet, please.” Noya turned her head, her red eyes taking in the damage done to Madara’s. “Lord First, please. Give Madara my right eye. He needs it more than I. Let me go.” 

“What? Noya, no.” Madara squeezed her shoulder. “Kuzon needs you. The clan does. You can’t-”

“It’s okay,” Noya said, weakly. “He doesn’t. He has all he needs.” Her hand pressed firmly against his chest. “You look after him for me. You do. Okay?” 

“But Noya,” Madara protested. She shook her head. 

“The love of my life is gone, Madara. I stayed alive only for Kuzon’s sake. Please. Let me go. I don’t want this pain anymore.” She turned her head weakly, finding her son. He was still smushed against her side. “Kuzon….I always hated that name. My husband wanted it though. So when he died, I honoured him by naming our son Kuzon when he was born.” She inhaled and exhaled shakily. 

“I don’t have much time,” she said. “Lord Hokage, please. Madara….please accept my gift, and my will. I want Kuzon to be yours, as you made Ahsona yours.” 

“If that is your wish, Noya,” Madara said quietly. Noya smiled, eyes sliding to Hashirama. 

“Lord First?” 

The Senju looked torn, but he nodded. “Okay. I’ll do the transfer.”

~*~*~

They left the ruined compound in silence, bandages wrapped over both Madara’s and Noya’s eyes. Madara carried Kuzon, and Hashirama Noya. The pack followed quietly, and soberly, behind them. The other Uchiha with them burnt the hideout to ash. 

A funeral was held for Noya a few days after they got back. As was customary of the clan head, Madara lit her pyre, watching her body turn to ash. Kuzon threw a fit every now and then, crying for his mother. Ahsona was unbearably sweet with him when he did, successfully distracting him with one of the foxes. 

“It feels wrong,” Madara said to Hashirama one evening. They were watching the two little ones play in the backyard with the foxes. “Noya didn’t like his name. It feels like a dishonour to call him Kuzon.” 

“She named him that in honour of her husband,” Hashirama reminded, and Madara shrugged. They stood in silence for a little while, watching and listening as the children shrieked with excitement, chasing each other and the foxes. “What if we gave him a different name?” Hashirama suggested after a while. 

Madara raised an eyebrow. His new eye, Noya’s, was healing nicely. As with all Uchiha, it was the exact shade of black as his other. “Like what?” 

“A mix between the two,” Hashirama said. “I was thinking Kuya. Kuzon and Noya. That way we honour them both. His mother and his father.” 

“Kuya Uchiha,” Madara hummed thoughtfully. “I like it.” 

“Senju,” Hashirama corrected, drawing him closer and looping his arms around his waist from behind, chin propped up on his shoulder. 

“Uchiha,” Madara insisted. 

“Uchiha-Senju.” They stared at each other for a moment.

“A conjunction?” Madara asked with a raised eyebrow. 

Hashirama nodded. “And I was thinking. Why don’t we see if we can adopt another? I’ve always wanted at least three kids. Maybe more. Maybe we can adopt a baby. And a teenager. I’ve always wanted to have a teenager to-” 

“Marry me first,” Madara said suddenly. Hashirama trailed off, stepping back and turning him around. 

“What?” 

Madara flushed, averting his eyes even as Hashirama’s hands came up to cup his face. “Marry me first,” he said again. “And then maybe I’ll consider more kids.” 

Hashirama’s smile was blinding, and he pulled Madara close, enthusiastically kissing him on the lips. “I’ve been hoping to hear you say that,” he said breathlessly, hands moving to his hair and pulling him closer. “I’ve been wanting this for so long.” 

“Then why didn’t YOU ask?” Madara huffed, shoving weakly at his shoulder. Hashirama paid him no mind, kissing him again, stupid smile still plastered on his face. 

“I didn’t want to scare you off. I thought it’d be best to wait until you were a little more used to the idea of a family and such.” 

Madara hummed, fingers curling around the edges of his robe. “You were probably right,” he admitted. Hashirama laughed, kissing him again. 

“When can we be married?” 

“I don’t know. Don’t these things usually take some time to plan?” 

“Yeah, but if we start planning right away…” 

“What’s the rush?” Hashirama pulled back to give him a look, moving one hand to trail his fingers over his eyebrow and nose. 

“I love you,” he said seriously. “And I want to be with you. I want to wake up in the morning, and know that I belong to you, and you to me. I want to put a more permanent claim on you than a couple of love marks that will fade away.” His other hand moved down Madara’s shoulder and arm, taking his hand and interlacing their fingers. “I want to make you mine. Now and forever.” 

“You’re ridiculous,” Madara breathed softly. Hashirama smiled. 

“Only for you.” Madara shook his head, leaning up on the tips of his toes to kiss him again. 

“Soon,” he promised. “Very soon.” 

Hashirama smiled, squeezing their interlaced hands, and turned his soft eyes back to the children. Madara watched him for a moment, and smiled to himself. 

He made a mental note to talk to Mito whenever he could and inquire about Senju marriage rituals. There was no way he was going to talk to Tobirama about it. Imagining the look on the albinos face sent a stab of glee through him. 

Oh, this was so going to be worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really grew to like Noya. So she had to go, or I'd make her into a recurring character.   
> Also, I wanted Madara to have an Uchiha child to reach Fire Style to.  
> Ahsona is an A+ big sister


	19. Will you marry me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our boys getted MARRIED
> 
> And enjoying what comes after :D
> 
> #content warning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, guess who just got herself in a car accident?! (Spoiler: it was me. Moving = ouch. Getting really tired of all this covid stuff. My siblings wanna visit me and they can't)

~*~*~

Our boys getted MARRIED

And enjoyed what comes after :D

~*~*~

Two days after they talked about it, Hashirama made it official. He went the whole 9 yards, insisting that Madara accompany him for dinner. Then, in front of what must have been half the village, he took the Uchiha’s hand, knelt down on one knee, and asked him to marry him, holding up a stunning diamond ring, speckled with tiny rubies. 

At first, Madara could only stare at him, stunned. Then he felt the eagerly expecting eyes watching them, and his surprise melted into indignation. Face flushing with embarrassment and irritation, he was about to say no. But then, looking down at Hashirama, at his big, doey eyes and his delightedly hopeful smile, and he melted. 

He nodded mutely, and Hashirama beamed even bigger. Taking his left hand, he slid the band onto his ring finger, surging to his feet and kissing him messily and passionately, paying the now cheering crowd no mind. 

Madara let him coo and dote over him, deciding to let Hashirama have this, just this once.

~*~*~

The day of the ceremony was warm and pleasant. It was supposed to be a small event. So, naturally, the entire village seemed to have been invited. Hashirama was a ball of nerves and excitement the morning of, pacing restlessly and anxiously in his living room. Tobirama watched him with a barely concealed irritated look. 

“Calm down, Hashirama,” he scolded, standing up and stopping him. “You’re wrinkling the ceremonial robes.” He straightened out the collar of the white and silver kimono he wore, scowling. 

“I can’t help but be nervous,” he admitted, wringing his hands anxiously. Tobirama sighed. 

“What do you think will happen, huh? That Madara will leave you at the altar? That he just won’t show? That man is so pathetically in love with you, it's digesting.” 

“Well, still.” He reached up, adjusting the silver circlet over his brow, shaped to mimic intertwined vines. It was studded with tiny diamonds and rubies. At the touch, a dopey smile crossed his face. 

By the Sage. He was marrying Madara today. 

~*~*~

He met Madara at the altar, and barely heard the officiate as he spoke. The Uchiha looked particularly striking. He was dressed in a midnight black kimono, accented with red and tiny strands of purple and silver. A circlet identical to Hashirama’s rested over his brow, and his wild hair was swept up into a high ponytail. 

The actual exchanging of vows was simple. Kuya carried the rings to them each. They were plain gold bands; Madara’s had a small green emerald in the band of his, and Hashirama a dark blue sapphire, so dark it was nearly black. 

The party that followed afterward, was anything but simple. It was probably one of the biggest parties in Konoha’s short history. The sake poured freely, food was abundant, and the music was loud.

Hashirama thrived off of the energetic setting, mingling and chatting with everyone he could, and dragging Madara around with him. His grumpy Uchiha dragged his feet, but Hashirama could see the pleased little gleam in his dark eyes. Their pack followed them everywhere they went, weaving between their legs and getting as much attention and treats from everyone as they could. 

Ahsona and Kuya were carefully watched over by Mito and Tobirama throughout the party. Mito had offered for them to take the kids for the night, with a scandalous wink that had Hashirama booming a laugh and Madara flushing bright red. 

The newly weds made their escape a few hours after the party started. Fingers laced together, they strode up to the steps of home. Hashirama stopped Madara before he could do inside, tugging lightly on his hand. 

His now husband paused, raising an eyebrow at him. Fondly, Hashirama brushed his hand over his cheekbone, moving aside some strands of hair that had fallen free of his ponytail. “We’re married,” he said in delight, and Madara smirked. 

“I’m aware.” Hashirama pulled him towards him. 

“The Senju have this little tradition when they get married,” he said, tracing Madara’s eyebrow with a finger. 

“Which is?” 

Hashirama smiled. “Carrying your new spouse into the house.” Before he could protest, he bent down, sweeping Madara off his feet with a hand behind his knees and his shoulders. Still beaming, Hashirama bounded up the steps, shoving the door open and stepping inside. Madara huffed grumpily, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“I’m not some helpless maiden, Hashirama,” Madara said disdainfully. Hashirama just hummed, nudging the door shut with his foot and turning, adjusting his hold on him so he was pressed against the wall, legs looped around his waist and arms around his neck. 

“Oh, I am very aware,” Hashirama drawled, leaning in to kiss him sweetly. “Very aware.” He lifted his hand, removing the circlet from his head, and then the one on Madara’s. They were gently set aside, and Hashirama tugged the tie from Madara’s hair, letting it cascade over his shoulders like a thick, dark waterfall. 

He leaned closer again, pressing his nose against his neck. Madara’s hand started carding through his hair, gently and fondly. Hashirama hummed happily, relaxing into his touch as much as he could without dropping Madara. 

“If you fall, I will carry you,” he mumbled quietly. Madara hummed back. 

“If your wings fail you, I shall lift you up.” 

“As far as east to west extends I will follow you.” 

“The night is dark alone, but we are not forsaken.”

“If I’ll be your earth, your wind, and your sea…”

“Then I’ll be your stars, your sun, and your moon.” 

Hashirama smiled as Madara finished the segment of their vows, his expression adoring. “I can’t wait to spend forever with you.” 

“So sappy.” Madara’s slender hands curled under his jaw, bringing his face down towards his and pressing his lips against him. 

Hashirama chuckled, broad hands wrapping over his hips. He lazily returned his kiss, and it soon became a little less adoring, and a little more passionate. Madara made a quiet sound at the back of his throat, and Hashirama lost his reservations. 

With a low grunt, he pulled his mouth away, attaching his lips to the front of his throat. “It’s our wedding night,” he said, his hands sliding through the folds of his partner's kimono, palms warm against his skin. “Can I make love to you?” 

“It’s our wedding night,” Madara parroted back at him. “Do you really have to ask?” Hashirama smiled, encouraging Madara to tighten his grip around his waist. He himself wrapped his arms around his back, pulling away from the wall and slowly carrying him up the stairs. Madara distracted him a little by continuously kissing and sucking his neck and jaw, clever fingers working under his clothes. 

By the time they finally made it to their room, Madara had nearly taken off his kimono. It hung loosely off his waist, kept in place only by the fact that Madara’s angles were crossed over at the small of his back. 

With a grunt, Hashirama folded them both down on the bed, propping himself up on his elbows and leaning back to stare down at him. He pushed some of Madara’s hair aside, enjoying the way it spread out underneath him appealingly. With a smile and bringing his lips down to lazily kiss him, he started working on pulling Madara’s black kimono off. 

He unwrapped him like a gift, slowly and appreciating every inch of pale skin revealed to him. Madara wiggled a little, lifting his hips to aid him, and Hashirama finally pulled the annoying piece of cloth away. Madara pulled Hashirama’s kimono away too, casting it aside and leaning back, dark eyes scanning over him, appreciating and admiring. 

Hashirama preened a little under his gaze, and very purposefully flexed, watching how his eyes followed the movements and darkened even further. “Like what you see?” 

“Maybe.” His fingers danced over Hashirama’s chest, nails brushing against a hardening nipple. Then he half sat up, taking the same nipple between his teeth and clamping down, firmly but gently. Hashirama groaned, lowering his head to sink his teeth into Madara’s shoulder. He bit and licked lazily, and Madara returned his ministrations, enthusiastically leaving marks of his own. 

Slowly, his hands started to wander, dropping down lower, over the defined muscles of his abdomen, skirting down to where the hip met the leg, and digging into the soft flesh there. Hashirama groaned, his interest growing harder to ignore. 

“Madara,” he breathed. He breathed in shakily when Madara’s hand moved, taking hold of his hardness and stroking. With a groan, he buried his face in the crook of Madara’s neck, rocking his hips down into his husband's grip. Madara alternatively tightened and loosened his hold, wrist twisting and fingers curling and squeezing. 

Hashirama pushed into his hand, taking some skin between his teeth and gnawing at it. “Mads,” he groaned. His lover just hummed quietly, hand speeding up, mouth leaving burning trails along his skin. With a quiet grunt, Madara turned them over, poking at Hashirama until he was arranged the way he wanted him. 

Hands gripping his hips, Madara nudged Hashirama’s knees apart, settling himself between them. “Choke me and I’ll kill you,” he warned. Hashirama half sat up, raising an eyebrow. 

“What? What are you-” He cut himself off with a strangled moan, throwing his head back and squeezing his eyes shut when Madara took him in his mouth. He had been pleading with Madara to try this for ages. Now, on their wedding night, Madara apparently decided to give into his pleas. 

His hands shot down, fisting in Madara’s hair. Unable to help himself, he thrust up into his mouth, pushing his head down at the same time. Madara made a low sound of protest, fingers tightening. One of his hands moved to join the efforts of his mouth, unable to take all of him. 

“Mads,” Hashirama grunted. Madara hummed back, his throat vibrating and sending a whole new wave of pleasure through him. Hashirama gasped, bucking up into his mouth. Madara growled, very purposefully scraping his teeth along his length. A warning, subtle, but there. 

He changed his tactic. pulling off and leaning in again to lick and nip at his length. Hashirama moaned loudly, desperately, fingers tightening almost painfully in his hair. “Madara, please,” he breathed, thick and heavy and broken with need. 

Apparently having mercy, Madara took him back in, hollowing his cheeks and sucking hard. With a shout, Hashirama came, thrusting up at the same time. Madara choked, and coughed slightly, pulling off and wiping his mouth and chin of some of Hashirama’s seed. 

With a groan, Hashirama grabbed him, yanking him up to his level and enthusiastically kissing him, tongue shoving into his mouth and tasting himself. Madara groaned softly, hands reaching up to tangle in his hair. 

“That was perfect,” he gasped. Even thinking about it had him stirring with interest again. “Please tell me we can do that again.” 

“Maybe. It’s not my favorite.” Hashirama pouted, and Madara sighed. “But yes, yes. Maybe I’ll grow to like it.” 

“Can I do it to you?” 

Madara made a little bit of a face. “Maybe one day.” Hashirama’s pout returned, but not for long. A maybe was still hope for the future. He pulled Madara close to lazily kiss him again, fumbling under the pillow under his head and pulling out his favorite bottle. He coated his fingers generously with oil, pulling Madara to sit on his stomach and reaching behind him. 

He circled for a moment, just until Madara shifted a little impatiently. Then he slid his index finger in, sliding it in as far as he could and swishing it back and forth. Madara whined, head tilting back and eye closing. Hashirama watched his face, memorizing his expressions as he moved his finger around, delighting in his lover's pleasure. 

“Hashi,” he breathed out, leaning down to press his lips against his neck and collarbone. Hashirama hummed, swirling his finger a little more before inserting another. He twisted and scissored them at random, making Madara shake and tremble, breathy little gasps and moans spilling out of him. 

“Come on,” he grunted, shoving back against his fingers. Hashirama stilled him with a tight hand on his hip. 

“Calm down,” he soothed, sliding a third finger in. He himself was already just as hard and ready as before, but he wanted to be sure Madara was thoroughly ready for him. The Uchiha was growling impatiently after only a minute or so. 

“Let’s go already, idiot Senju,” Madara hissed, growing mouthy as he usually did when he was impatient. Hashirama chuckled. 

“Senju-Uchiha,” he reminded. The irritated gleam in Madara’s eyes faded to something softer. 

“Senju-Uchiha, if you don’t get on with it I will hurt you.” 

“I love you, too.” He pulled his fingers out, but only after a playful jab that had Madara curling over him with a moan. Hands on his hips, he pushed Madara back from his stomach, lifting him and lining up. He pulled his lover down onto him, groaning when he was fully sheathed. Madara curled in a little further, forehead resting on his chest and breathing deeply. 

Hashirama stroked his hair, waiting for him to adjust. After a moment, Madara experimentally rolled his hips, and Hashirama groaned again, hands moving to his hips, aiding Madara’s movements as he started rocking against him, lifting and dropping and grinding. His nails dug deeply into his chest, and he very purposely clawed at his husband's nipples. 

Hashirama groaned, yanking Madara down on him hard, sitting up and sinking his teeth into his shoulder. Still sitting up, he rearranged Madara slightly, so he was firmly settled on his lap, knees bracketing his hips. Madara raised his hands to thread in Hashirama’s hair, kissing him brutally hard, rocking down almost desperately.

“Madara,” Hashirama breathed into his mouth, nipping at his upper lip. Holding his hips firmly, he turned them over, laying Madara down on his back. Drawing his hands down his arms, he linked their fingers together, admiring the glint of their near matching rings. 

He moved his mouth down, mouthing along the underside of his jaw, pulling back and thrusting lazily, shallowly. Madara whimpered quietly, turning his head to give him better access. Hashirama took the opportunity happily, his mouth moving with enthusiastic passion. Madara’s hands tightened on his. 

Taking the hint, Hashirama thrust in harder, setting a rapid pace. He changed it up with periodic grinding, pulling Madara back against him whenever he did, pressing hard into him, enjoying the way Madara’s breath would hitch and he’d jerk and squirm. 

“Hashi,” be breathed. 

“Almost, Mads,” he said lowly. “Hold on just a little longer.” 

With a whine, Madara thunked his head back, and Hashirama thrust hard and deep, grinning down at his lover. As much as he was enjoying himself, and undoubtedly Madara was too, he could feel the edge of his impending finish. 

He leaned down again, panting in Madara’s ear and thrusting harder, faster. Madara stiffened, tightening hard, and came with a strangled sound. Hashirama followed right after, pulled over the edge by Madara.

Groaning, he pulled out, revelling in Madara’s little squirm. The dark haired one sighed, and Hashirama dropped down to lay beside him. “That was great,” he said wondrously. “It’s like being married had made it even better.” 

Madara groaned, swatting lazily at him. “Oh, shut up. Why do you always have to say such weird things after?” 

“All part of my charm,” Hashirama said cheerfully, wrapping his arms around him and pulling him close. 

“Stop, we’re all gross,” Madara complained. Hashirama pouted as Madara pulled away, sitting up. He gave him an amused look. “Come, shower time.” 

That had Hashirama perking right back up. “Okay.” He sat up, taking Madara’s hand and following him to the shower. 

Once done, hair still damp, they curled back up on the bed. Hashirama cheerfully pulled him into his side, arms around his waist. Madara hummed quietly, tucking his head under his chin. His left hand curled loosely over his chest, the wedding band on his finger glinting. 

The sight warmed him, and Hashirama carded his fingers through his damp hair. Dark eyes opened lazily, peering up at him. With a smile, he leaned down a little, lips pressing against the forehead of his lover and husband. 

“Madara,” he whispered. Lazily, he opened one dark eye. 

“What?” 

“We’re MARRIED,” he said excitedly. Madara groaned, rolling over onto his side with his back to him. 

“We’re about to be divorced if you don’t stop preening.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the end! 
> 
> Hashirama and Madara get their happily ever after with their little ones and their pack <3


End file.
